Wednesday's Child is Full of Woe
by D.R.Parks
Summary: AU. A tangled web of lies is unwoven when an American family unknowingly adopts the daughter of Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape. An international custody battle ensues with the Malfoys but the chosen legal guardian is a surprise to both parties as is the true nature of the girl.
1. Chapt 1 Tea with Mr and Mrs Lestrange

**Chapter 1 – Tea time with Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange**

Author's Notes: This takes place in an Alternate Universe. This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so please go easy on me. This chapter has been revised. I realized I was spelling 'Rodolphus' as 'Rudolphus.' I'd really appreciate some feedbacks. Special thanks to Dayz-n-Passions-luvr, who is my first reviewer ever!

Disclaimer: The whole Harry Potter universe is the creation of J.K. Rowling. It's not worth it to sue me unless you want a week's worth of dirty laundry and this story is solely for entertainment – no profit being made here.

"**The Stars know a secret / They do not tell; And morn brings a message / Hidden well." - **Edward Rowland Sill, _Force_

A throbbing headache woke the unconscious Auror. He tried to open his eyes, but found that he could only see through the left one. The other was swollen shut. The soreness in his limbs began to register as he regained consciousness.

_This must be what it's like tah have the Knight Bus run over yeh. Back up. An' do it again,_ he thought. The rope, that bound him to a heavy wooden chair, chafed against his raw skin. He struggled vainly to free himself.

"Glad you could join us in the land of the living. The missus and I were just about to have our afternoon tea," said a man seated on an old-fashioned sedan across the room. Auror Galway recognized the other wizard's silky voice immediately. To his horror, he slowly realized that he had been captured by the Lestranges. Galway knew he was a dead man now. It was only a question of how much agony he'd have to endure before they'd finally allow him to die.

Rodolphus smirked at the bound man and laid down his newspaper on the coffee table. Once again, Sirius Black's mug shot graced the front page. The Ministry didn't have a clue. They couldn't find their own arses with both hands. Well, they say ignorance is bliss. Rodolphus called out to his wife whimsically, "Bella, it's tea time."

The sound of deliberate footsteps caused Auror Galway to groan. It was as though each step echoed and magnified itself a hundred-fold against his eardrums. He hoped the headache would finish him off before his torturers could get to him. No deity answered this silent prayer.

"Let me pour you a cup." Bella reached into the pocket of her black robes and took out a crystal bottle. She removed the stopper.

Rodolphus held the Auror's head back with one hand and with the other pinched the man's nose to force him to breathe through his mouth. Galway tried to move his head to the side his lips tightly shut, but Lestrange's grip proved too strong. Blood escaped from Galway's nostrils. Finally, the Auror opened his mouth thinly for breathe. Rodolphus seized the moment and pried open the man's mouth. Bella poured five drops onto Galway's tongue as he gasped for air. Rodolphus let go so quickly that the man's jaws made an audible clacking noise of bone on bone. Galway was lucky he hadn't bit his tongue in half. He spat out what little spittle he had in a futile attempt to rid his body of the all too recognizable clear liquid that had been force-fed to him.

"How rude," Bella said as she replaced the stopper. "He doesn't like my tea."

"Bitch," the Auror retorted.

"Tsk, tsk, Duncan. Where are your manners? Is that anyway to speak to a man's wife?" Rodolphus wagged his wand chidingly at the bound Auror. He smirked obscenely as he used the tip of his wand to poke the man's bloody arm wound causing it to reopen and gush blood onto the Auror's robes. Galway screamed in agony.

"Better get that treated. Before it festers and rots off." Bella laughed turning to her husband. "Oh, darling, do be careful," she rubbed at the droplet of blood that stained the collar of his white collared shirt. "You don't want any of his dirty blood to sully you," she admonished him.

"I'll be careful, dear," he promised as he pulled her into a rough kiss. Galway felt the distinct urge to wretch at the scene unfolding in front of him and groaned in distaste.

Bella sighed. "Work first," she whispered huskily into Rodolphus's ear. Auror Galway's face had gone slack and his one good eye had glazed over.

"Right, luv." He released her waist and turned back to the prisoner Bella had captured in Knockturn Alley.

The Veritaserum was taking effect. It mercifully began to numb Galway's sense of pain as it took away his volition.

"So Galway, how did you know the rendezvous point?" Rodolphus asked.

"Some bloke sent an owl tah headquarters. Said Death Eaters were meetin' behind Macabee's candle shop," he said in an eerily calm voice.

"What did the letter say exactly?" Bella questioned.

"I didn' read it. Boss did. Told me tah be there," he replied.

"Do you have any idea who sent the letter?" Rodolphus asked as he walked in a circle around the man.

"Nah," Duncan Galway replied, his face expressionless. "Haven't any idea, probably some loon."

"Who is your _boss_?" Bella queried.

"Chief Auror Alan McCalister," Galway answered.

"Yet another old man to lead the stupid," Rodolphus sighed. "Does the Ministry ever fire the incompetent?"

The fugitive couple continued their interrogation of the high-ranking Auror. The Ministry was clueless as to how the Death Eaters had managed to escape Azkaban. Fudge was desperate to boost popular support for himself. Rumors had been circulating for weeks that they needed a tougher Minister. The escape of ten Death Eaters, less than a year after Sirius Black had accomplished the same feat, did not bode will for the current Minister's prospects. Aurors were instructed to follow up on every tip no matter how dubious to reassure people that Fudge was taking a hard-line against the fugitive Death Eaters. Fudge, the buffoon, had deluded himself into believing that the Dark Lord was dead. He was fool enough to believe that it was Black who had masterminded the escape. He even disregarded the eye-witness account of the accursed Harry Potter.

It had been sheer luck that McCalister had assigned Galway to follow up on the anonymous letter, which had turned out to be true. Even the Chief had doubted that it would lead to anything. And Galway had been so sure it was a bunch of baloney that he'd sent his junior partner home early.

Bella tapped the tip of her boot against the stone floor impatiently. The interrogation had goneon for over two hours. They were almost done. Then the real fun would begin.

"Is there anything else we should know from you?" asked Rodolphus.

"Yes," Galway said slowly as though the words were being pulled from him like teeth. "I – know 'bout – your baby. Not dead – like they told yah."

"Liar!" Bella cried out in fury.

"No! Wait, Bella!" Rodolphus shouted, but it wastoo late.

"_Cruciatus!" _Bella shrieked.

A jet of red light shot out of her wand and hit the Auror in the chest.

"THWACK!" The chair had flipped backwards andhit the hard ground. Blood poured out the back of Galway's head, dyeing his sandy blond hair an unnatural color. The dark red liquid quickly formed a puddle on the cool gray stones.

"_Ennervate!_" Rodolphus tried to wake Galway. "Damn it, Bella," he muttered as he cast healing charms to stop the bleeding.It would have to do for the moment. There was nothing more he could do. He wasn't a damned Healer for Merlin's sake. Theman's skull was fracturedand there wassubstantial internal bleeding. Bella released the chords that had bound the Galway, so Rodolphus could lay the man down flat. Tense minutes later, the Auror's breathing steadied and his left-eye opened once more.

"Are you saying that our baby wasn't stillborn?" Rodolphus barked at him.

"Yeh, Boss I'll do it," Galway said hoarsely. "I'll take the Lestrange baby to him… Sturgis'll _Obliviate_ the Healer after he tells 'em its dead." The Auror's previously blank demeanor gave way to a look of pity. "Poor little girl. Death Eaters fer parents."

"It was a girl?" Bella asked fervently. She was now kneeling beside her husband, who was trying to stop the internal bleeding. "Where did you take her?" She demanded.

Galway didn't answer. He linked his arms together as though he were carrying something.

"Ah, don' cry," he cooed and tried to reassure the imaginary babe. "Yeh, don'cha worry none. Yer going somewheres faraway. Decent people will bring you up. Not Death Eaters that's fer sure," Galway pointed a finger toward the imaginary babe. He made a mirthful face – smiling down at his empty crooked arm. "C-cute as a button ain't yah." His arms linked again and then he raised them upwards. He was handing it over to someone. "Here yeh go, sir."

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU GIVING OUR BABY TO?" Rodolphus shouted.

But the Auror was beyond hearing. "Give her to some good folksss," he slurred the last word as blood coming up from his lungs began to clog his throat. He turned to his head to the side. "Remember, t-tell'em it died. Yeh. Some r-revenge… for Frank 'n A-al." He made choking noises as he coughed up blood and bile. It spilled out of the sides of his mouth. His legs jerked involuntarily and then he was still.

Bella shook him violently. "WHO DID YOU GIVE MY BABY TO?" She cast _Ennervate_ several more times. "Wake up, damn you! Where is my daughter?" She cast spell after spellin a futile attempt to awaken Galway.

"Stop, Bella!" Rodolphus roared. Hegrasped her by the shoulders. "It's your fault he can't tell us!Damned, temper of yours." He let goof her and stood up. Bella remained on the ground."Fucking Aurors," Rodolphus cursed as he kicked the corpse and paced the room in frustration.

Bella brushed her dark hair back behind her ear. It was matted against her neck from her exertions. "We got the informationour Master wanted," she said defensively.

Rodolphus noticedher hand tightly clenched over her wand. He helped his wife backup to her feet and held her against his chest. "Sorry, luv. It was a shock." He rubbed her back in a soothing gesture. A smile crossed his gaunt face. "A baby," he said the words with amazement. "Just think. After all these long years, we have a child together."

"Yes," Bella agreed. "Our baby is alive... somewhere."


	2. Chapter 2 Inter arma enim silent leges

**Chapter 2 – _Inter arma enim silent leges._**

"**_In times of war the law falls silent." – _Cicero**

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**Author's Note: **Chapter 2 has been divided in two from the original version. Once again constructive suggestions and comments are welcome. Thanks to Dayz-n-Passions-luvr, my first lovely reviewer and to Avril13.

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First, it had been Andromeda. Her blood traitor of a younger sister had shamed their family by marrying a worthless Muggleborn, Ted Tonks. What had possessed Andy to give up the noble name of Black for the loathsome surname Tonks? Mrs. Hippolyta Delores Ralston Black regretted the day she had given birth to such vile progeny.

Andromeda's visage was blasted out of every family photo. And the things Andy left behind in the main house of the Black estate: custom-made evening gowns she never wore, a hidden collection of _Miranda the Mad Muggle Mistress_ comic books, posters of dejected musicians clad in Muggle clothes, porcelain dolls dressed with their clothes inside out (Andy had always been the 'weird one') and the miniature replica of Beardslee Castle complete with tiny house elves and a headless ghost – these artifacts of Andy's childhood were incinerated. Mrs. Black had a bonfire made on the back lawn that resembled a towering inferno after reading the wedding announcement in _The Daily Prophet_. It burnt a large patch of grass on the front lawn but on the bright side they never had to contend with garden gnomes ever again.

About a year later over breakfast, a Barn Owl swooped down with another issue of the _Prophet. _It contained a notice announcing the birth of Mrs. Black's first grandchild… the abomination, Nymphadora Alcamene Tonks. The new grandmother let out a screaming wail that would have put a banshee to shame and breakfast was ruined by the scattering of owl feathers.

Then it had been Narcissa's turn, the youngest of the Black sisters. The golden haired daughter, decided to announce her pregnancy at their parents' 50th wedding anniversary celebration. Everyone showered the glowing mother-to-be with saccharine praises. The guests toasted crystal glasses filled with finely aged elderberry wine to the happy new parents to be, Mr. and Mrs. Lucius Malfoy.

The naming ceremony for Draco had been nearly unbearable. Lucius had never looked so smug. One would have thought that he'd been the one in labor pains for over twenty-seven hours. Lord and Lady Black, were beside themselves with joy. The bounty of gifts given to the newborn was enough to make a goblin drool with envy. It was a jubilant occasion for everyone except haughty and proud Bellatrix, who felt like a lowly spinster. For though she had been the first to marry, she had failed to conceive.

Bellatrix was not accustomed to failure. Hadn't she been first in her class? Hadn't she been the first woman in a century of Hogwarts history to captain the Slytherin quidditch team? But season after season, year after year, sons and daughters were born into every household except to the Lestranges. Granted the progeny of many of Bellatrix's contemporaries resembled scaled-down versions of giants or had the intellects of trolls. It didn't matter to her. She resented every new mother.

Bella wanted a baby of her own. A little person, who would be an extension of herself, someone she could bring up in her own exalted image – a lasting legacy for generations to come. It was a primal urge she recognized. The need to procreate was instinctual – a matter of survival for dwindling pure bloodlines.

Bellatrix refused to be cast as the 'barren sister.' Over the years, she had gone to every Healer deemed to be worth a damn. And they had all come to the same bloody conclusion. She was fertile. They could find nothing wrong with her physically. There was no reason why she shouldn't be able to conceive and carry a fetus to term. The silent implication was that Rodolphus, her husband, was sterile. The couple subjected themselves to foul tasting potions, medicinal draughts, and dark spells to counter his infertility. But it was all for naught.

Each new birth announcement and baby christening were daggers in her heart. It fueled her growing resentment and rage at those unfathomable forces that denied her a child of her own.

Voldemort redirected her fury towards those muggleborns, half-bloods, mixed-blooded freaks, who had dirtied the bloodlines with their impurities. They continued to bring forth beings that were not worthy of life. How dare they have children when she could not. Bellatrix regarded the Dark Lord as her savior. He would bring back the glory of the old days, when blood purity had meant something. The freaks – Muggleborns and the like would be swept away. The Muggles would serve their magical superiors as they had done millennia ago.

But dearer to Bellatrix's heart than the blood purity of the Wizarding race was Lord Voldemort's promise that the Lestranges would have a child. If they had faith in his abilities and demonstrated true loyalty to him, the Dark Lord would give them their just reward.

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**Tuesday, August 1st, 1981, Lughnasadh (Feast of the First Fruits)**

Bellatrix pulled a strand of hair from her head making sure the root was intact. She repressed all thought and prepared the solution mechanically as she had done dozens of times before in the past seven years. Rodolphus was asleep in their bed. After the first few failures, it had become a solitary ritual.

The strand of hair was carefully placed into the glass of cloudy gray liquid. No reaction… again. She was about to pour the liquid into the sink or hurl it against the wall, as she was sometimes wont to do, but before she could decide which method of disposal to use, the concoction suddenly bubbled up and gurgled. The mixture released copious amounts of smoke into the air. She stepped back in surprise as the smoke swirled and formed words in the air, "CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE A WIZARD OR WITCH ON THE WAY! Tell your friends to come to Ashburn's Apothecary for all their …"

"Rodolphus, wake-up!" she shouted.

"What the bloody hell!" He charged into the bathroom wearing only his boxers with his wand at the ready expecting to see Aurors or some other kind of vermin.

Bella had the strangest expression on her face. She was smiling. Her pale blue eyes glittered with unsuppressed excitement beneath her heavy eyelids. She pointed at the smoke above the sink.

Rodolphus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and squinted. 'Congratulations,' he read aloud in a groggy voice. 'You have a wiz…' He whirled around to look at his wife in disbelief. "Sweet Nimue!" he said breathlessly. "Are you pregnant?"

She nodded her head unable to speak.

"Oh luv!" he exclaimed as lifted her off the floor and into his arms. He laughed heartily. The years of disappointment were over. It would put an end to the rumors and gossip that Bella was barren or worse yet that Rodolphus couldn't keep it up for an aggressive young woman fifteen years his junior. The birth of the Lestrange child would shut them all up forever. Not to mention that their sexual congresses would no longer be mechanical baby-making sessions timed to Bella's ovulation. A triumphant Rodolphus carried his wife back to their marriage bed. She would need plenty of rest in her delicate condition.

The Lestranges thanked the Dark Lord profusely for fulfilling his promise to them. When their Master disappeared the next month on Samhain, they vowed to find him by any means necessary. As repayment for their ruthless efforts, Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange found that they had only reaped the whirlwind. In more ways than they were aware.

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**December 21, 1981, Yule (Winter Solstice)**

A smarmy wizard obnoxiously stuck a piece of rolled parchment into the face of an impeccably dressed wizard. "Bartemius Crouch, Sr., Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I, Conroy Maddox, Esquire, heretofore serve you with this order from the International Confederation of Wizards, to cease and desist in the imprisonment of one Bellatrix Black Lestrange to Azkaban Prison." Maddox was the legal representative for the four Death Eaters, who minutes ago had been sentenced to lifetime imprisonment for the torture of two popular Aurors.

"What nonsense is this?" asked Crouch gruffly. He hurriedly untied the ribbon. As he read the official command from the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW), he clenched his jaw in barely suppressed fury. "Give me a quill," he demanded of no one in particular. His assistant, Weatherby, fished one of his robe pockets.

"Do you need an inkbottle, sir?" Weatherby asked.

Crouch didn't answer. He used the tip of the quill to scratch at the wax seal at the bottom of the document. It bore the symbol of the Confederation, a wand crossed with a judge's hammer. Crouch dug out a good chunk of wax out of the seal, but the royal blue seal repaired itself confirming its authenticity.

"This is a domestic matter," snapped Crouch. Maddox was an annoying gnat. No matter how many times Crouch swatted at him, Maddox inevitably returned buzzing in his ear about some small legal technicality or other. "What right does the ICW have to interfere with the internal affairs of a sovereign Ministry of Magic?" Crouch demanded.

"I warned you Mr. Crouch to let me present my argument to the Wizengamot, regarding Mrs. Lestrange's imprisonment," Maddox smirked. "You left me no choice but to seek a higher powers. It appears that you are in violation of the International Code on the Rights of Witches and Wizards, Clause 152."

"And that would be?" Crouch was itching to blast Maddox back to the slimy rock he'd crawled out from.

"Why I have it right here," Maddox removed a book from his robes. "Let's see," he said not bothering to conceal his glee, "Ahh, here it is." He was milking the moment for all it was worth – slowly flipping to the page he had dog-eared in the hefty tome with the gilded words _International Code Book of the International Confederation of Wizards._ 'It is herein established that any pregnant magical being has the right to medical care in the form of Healers, mediwitches, shamans, priests and priestesses, etcetera. The unborn child or children, as the case may be, of the prisoner, has all the rights and protections given to all free magical beings in their native land. Theretofore, while the prisoner is with child, he or she shall not be subjected to harsh treatment or punishments that may cause harm to or in anyway endanger the life of the unborn.' Maddox held the book out to Crouch, who snatched it from his hands and skimmed through the paragraph the barrister had just read.

This piece of obscure legislation effectively prevented Bartemius Crouch from sending Bellatrix directly to Azkaban. He would have to place her in a maximum security cell located in the dungeon of the Ministry that was used to hold suspects waiting for their hearings before the Wizengamot. It would take at least three Aurors to guard the devious witch. _It was a damned waste of manpower_, thought Crouch.

After being roadblocked by Crouch, Maddox had brought his argument before the ICW, which dispatched a representative from its legal offices in the United States to oversee compliance to its rulings. Willard Mayer Delamere, Esq., legal expert and professor emeritus, Apparated across the pond as a neutral party to remind Crouch to abide by international law or risk losing the confidence and substantial monetary aid of the Confederation. Delamere stroked his short salt and pepper beard as he listened to Crouch's explanation with increasing dismay. The bureaucrat was practically foaming at the mouth as he recounted the crimes a cruel and sadistic woman.

"Let me see if I got this right," Delamere interrupted him mid-tirade. "Mr. Crotch is it?"

"No, it's _Crouch_," he replied irritably.

"My mistake, Mr. Crouch," Delamere apologized. "Just to summarize things – you want to send a _pregnant_ woman to a prison guarded by Dementors." Delamere had been one of the dissenters in the bitter debates over the use of Dementors as a form of punishment. They were foul creatures sure to abuse their powers if given the chance.

"Yes, one could summarize it as such," Crouch conceded.

"What do you think is going to happen to that baby she's carryin'?" Delamere asked. No one knew the exact effect Dementors would have on a pregnant woman. It was simply unimaginable to subject an unborn child to something so vile. But it was a good guess that it would result in some abnormality or miscarriage.

"_That is not my concern_. This woman casted Unforgivable Curses on a man and his wife, while threatening the life of their one-year old little boy no less. She was sentenced to Azkaban for life by an assembly of wizards and witches. Obviously, she did not care enough for her own child's future to consider the consequences of her actions," Crouch rankled. "This is all just a ruse for her to try to escape justice," he said stabbing at the mountainous pile of legal parchments in front of him.

"Justice, you say." Delamere formed a steepled his hands against in deep thought. "And… the life of a baby is not your concern, you say."

"You are twisting my words, Mr. Delamere," Crouch huffed defensively.

"No, no. I think I understand you very clearly," the bearded wizard protested with a Southern twang in his voice. "This is a difficult time for you Brits. You've been through something of a civil war. We had one of those too across the pond. War is hell, we say. Now that Voldemort's been–"

"_Don't_ say his name, please," Crouch winced. "We refer to him as You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"That's kind of wordy, don't cha think?" Delamere chuckled.

Crouch was not amused. Delamere wiped the mirthful expression from his face and schooled it to humorless solemnity.

"Pardon me. Where are my manners?" Delamere chastised himself and leaned back into his seat. "This You-Know-Who was defeated by a baby is that correct?"

"That's unconfirmed," Crouch replied. "We are still investigating the circumstances of You-Know-Who's disappearance. We do know that the infant, Harry Potter, was somehow able to miraculously survive an attack from him." Crouch tapped his fingers on the table with growing impatience. He had more evidence to gather and raids to authorize for pending trials. But he was stuck in his own conference room, conversing with a doddering old man.

"The baby boy, Harry Potter, this monster was trying to kill – If you had known that You-Know-Who was going after this kid, would you have stopped it?" Delamere asked pointedly.

"Yes, of course!" Crouch lost his temper and stood up from his seat. "_It is my job to protect the innocent_! And I won't let anyone accuse me of not doing so!"

"I'm glad you remember what _your job_ is Mr. Crouch," Delamere said in a quieter tone that chilled the other wizard. "Now tell me, what crime is this unborn baby is guilty of?" He paused to let the question sink in. "This isn't justice Crouch. This is vengeance. Clear as day."

Crouch had the decency to look embarrassed and sat back down in his seat.

"Like I said earlier, war is hell." Delamere opened his briefcase and took out a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey and two glass tumblers. "The fighting gets real dirty down in the trenches. The other-side ups the ante bit by bit. Soon enough, you've seen so many good folks die that you start to cut a few corners yourself. Gets damned confusing, don't it?" Delamere raised his glass to Crouch. They each took a sip of the burning amber liquid. "Yep," Delamere smacked his lips together at the bitter taste. "It's the darnest thing. Sometimes you wind up winning. The guy's down on his knees begging for mercy. This guy whose killed people for just looking at him the wrong way. You want to spit in his eye. You want to carve out the pound of flesh he owes ya, you know?"

"I most certainly do not!" Crouch's eyes widened in alarm as he looked up from his drink at Delamere, who now bore a likeness akin to Dumbledore. Was the man accusing him of cannibalism?

Delamere chortled, "It's Shakespeare. A Muggle Brit. Well any hoot, I think we understand each other just fine now. The rest of this paper is details."

Crouch downed the rest of his drink and nodded tiredly in agreement.

It was decided that Mrs. Lestrange was to be held in the basement of St. Mungo's, which was used the Quarantine Sector. She would be under constant surveillance. Bellatrix agreed to the condition that she enter into an Unbreakable Vow to not attempt escape from the hospital in exchange for access to medical care until the child was born. The infant was then to be given to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to be raised as their ward till the child reached the age of maturity. All parties involved signed a confidentiality agreement. There were to be no leaks to the press.

At the end of the day, a thousand galleons was deposited to the account of one Conroy Maddox, Esq. as an added bonus from the noble and most ancient Black and Lestrange families.

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**Author's Note: **Thanks again to Dayz-n-Passions-luvr, my first lovely reviewer and to Avril13. Please, please, pretty please, write a review. 

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	3. Chapter 3 Threnody, Part 1

**Chapter 3 – Threnody, Part 1**

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**Author's Note: **Chapter 2 was divided from the original version, at the behest of Chapter 3.

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**Warning: **The preceding story talks a little graphically about childbirth and the birth of a stillborn child. If you cannot mentally or emotionally handle this subject – **PLEASE**, do not read further. It is in no way meant to be offensive to anyone.

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_Sorrow like a ceaseless rain_

_Beats upon my heart._

_People twist and scream in pain, –_

_Dawn will find them still again;_

_This has neither wax nor wane,_

_Neither stop nor start._

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 – 1950), _Renascence and Other Poems_

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**May 1st, 1982, Beltaine **

(Midpoint between the Vernal Equinox and the Summer Solstice)

"**_Bear down harder_**, Mrs. Lestrange," the Midwife ordered. She supported the baby's head in an upward position to help get the lower shoulder out.

"**_I am_** bearing down, you daft cow. What do you think I've been doing for the last five hours?" Bellatrix was no stranger to pain, but the agony of childbirth was excruciating. She was drenched in sweat with her legs spread out for the whole world to see on a hospital bed. The young Healer, they had sent to attend to her medical needs didn't look old enough to have an Apparition License, much less supervise childbirth.

"Stop waving your fucking wand over me!" she screamed at Healer Holt. "Or I will snap it in half and shove the pieces up your arse!" The freckled young man stepped back in fright, knocking over a tray of surgical tools. The instruments clattered to the floor. "AHHHHH!" she cried out as another contraction hit her. She clenched the side rails of the bed, gritted her teeth and pushed with all her remaining strength. Midwife Edith Ingersoll placed her hand under the baby's abdomen and hips as they emerged from the womb. It was girl. She had black hair like her mother's.

Bellatrix fell back down onto the hospital bed.

"Is she alright?" asked the young brunette nervously as Healer Holt waved his wand over the unconscious woman.

"Yes, she's just passed out with exhaustion," he replied. "I've got to inform Crouch. You've got everything under control. Right, Eddie?" He glanced over at the intimidating Auror standing guard in the far right corner of the room with a wary eye, who gave him an assenting nod.

"Yes, Healer Holt," Ingersoll replied with a hint of animosity. It had taken some teeth pulling to get anyone on staff to care for the infamous woman. When Mrs. Lestrange's water broke, they sent in the ones who couldn't refuse, with the exception of herself of course. She glad to be rid of the Healer. Holt had been jumpier than a Billywig under the daunting supervision of the Aurors and the paper-pushing Ministry bureaucrats throughout Mrs. Lestrange's stay for the past five months.

Edith had been a nurse for nearly thirty-seven years. She regarded the Oath of Ascelpius, which all members of the Healing staff had sworn to uphold, with a fidelity befitting of a former Hufflepuff. She recited the latter part of the prayer in her head whenever her work seemed chaotic and overwhelming like right now: 'Oh, Mother and Father of Life, grant to me the strength and knowledge to preserve these frail bodies which envelop the immortal soul for Thou hast appointed me to be a Watcher over Life and Death. Protect me from the vain prejudices of wealth and lineage, so that I may never see in the Patient anything but a fellow creature in pain. While they are mine to Care for, I will be their Keepers. My portion is to Heal and to do no Harm. To Comfort and not to Condemn…'

After checking up on the new mother, who had indeed passed out from the sheer exhaustion of childbirth, Adelaide Stevenson, the Apprentice Midwife, observed the deft handiwork of her mentor.

"What is that?" asked the inquisitive brunette. She pointed at the shimmery coating which covered the infant's head and face. She had been among those drafted into attending to the birth of the Death Eater woman. She admired Ingersoll, who although stern was a consummate professional.

"This is a caul," Ingersoll answered. Adelaide Stevenson recognized her mentor's 'didn't-they-teach-you-anything-at-university' tone of voice and listened in attentive silence. Ingersoll proceeded to fill in the details the Academy of Midwifery and Obstetrics had failed to instill in its pupil.

"A caul is the remnants of the amniotic sac. In the Dark Ages, it was a fortuitous omen. Since, it is Beltaine we'll indulge the customs of the Good Goddess. Get me a clean sheet of parchment," Ingersoll instructed.

"Do you need a quill?" Stevenson asked. What the bloody hell was Ingersoll going to do with the paper, she wondered.

As though she had heard the thought, Edith began to explain her odd request. "It used to be customary to present the mother with the caul to be kept as an heirloom," Ingersoll explained to her confused student as she rubbed the paper gently across the baby's head and face. The thin, filmy membrane adhered easily to the dry surface.

"Why would anyone want to keep this?" Stevenson grimaced as she placed the parchment aside.

"Don't think me the superstitious type, but considering the mother of the child, she'd probably like to keep it as a follower of the Old Ways. Cauls are quite valuable. Not that Mrs. Lestrange needs the money, but a thousand galleons is still a considerable sum. Traditionally, cauls were thought to give its bearer good luck or to protect a person from death by drowning. So they were popular even with Muggles, especially the ones that sailed often."

Luckily, Mrs. Lestrange's last push had been strong enough to expel the placenta along with the infant, so it was unnecessary to awaken the new mother. They doubted she would be pleased to be asked to bear down once more. They cut the umbilical chord, which had gone limp after the baby's first cries. The infant was strangely quiet as the two women proceeded to clean the rest of the blood, mucous and other fluids from the baby taking care to suction out the mouth and nostrils. The newborn had a strong heart beat and respiration. It had lost the blue tinge in its extremities and sneezed when Adelaide wrapped her up in a soft pink blanket.

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Healer Holt was nearly breathless when he reached his own office on the sixth floor, where Crouch had taken up temporary residence. "Sir," he gasped out. "The b-baby's just born."

"What was it?" asked Crouch nonchalantly as he flicked his wand to close and lock the door behind Holt.

"A girl," Holt said catching his breathe and sitting in the armchair across from his own desk that Crouch had commandeered for the time being. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Crouch," he said taking the proffered tumbler of whiskey.

"And how is Mrs. Lestrange?" Crouch asked standing behind the desk casting a shadow on the young man.

"She passed out just after she pushed the infant out," he sipped at the fiery liquid. "It was a long labor."

"Is that so," Crouch said gazing out the window. It had a spectacular view of the city. Bonfires burnt brightly against the dark of night in celebration of Beltaine. He remembered trying to impress his wife by jumping across one and nearly setting his own arse on fire. Those days… the happy ones were in the past. This was a time of tribulation. He turned to face the young man once again.

"_Imperio!" _Crouch shouted.

A yellow light shot out from his wand. The tumbler of whiskey fell onto Holt's very expensive Oriental rug. Crouch walked round the table to sit on the edge of the desk with his wand pointed trained on the Healer.

"You, Mr. Holt will forget witnessing the birth of the Lestrange girl. You will forget informing me of the birth. Instead, you will remember telling me that the baby was stillborn. You will proceed to inform Mrs. Lestrange that her child was born dead due to some medical complication," he said. "Make it as convincing as possible – as though your career depended on it. You will then tell Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy of the unfortunate event and proceed to Auror Podmore, who give you further direction. Is that clear?"

Holt nodded dumbly.

"Repeat my instructions," Crouch ordered.

While Crouch made sure Holt's cooperation was secured, Podmore subdued the Midwife and her apprentice. Everything was going according to plan. Podmore handed the baby off to junior Auror Duncan Galway. The man had idolized Frank Longbottom, so it surprised Podmore to see him coo over the hell spawn.

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When Bellatrix awoke, her body was ached terribly. She knew the baby was no longer in her womb. They had taken it somewhere.

"Where is my baby Podmore?"

Podmore tapped on the door. On the otherside, Galway stood guard. "Go fetch Holt," he said.

"Right mate," came the answer.

In a few moments, a somewhat disheveled Healer Holt stood at the foot of Bellatrix's bed. The young man refused to meet her eyes. He fiddled with his wand nervously. The Apprentice Midwife followed behind him with a bundle wrapped in a thick white cloth.

"My baby," she said hoarsely. "Let me hold it."

But Holt and Stevenson stood dutifully behind the yellow line on the floor that circled Bellatrix's hospital bed. It indicated how far Bellatrix could reach. Her wrists had been chained back to the metal railings while she slept. Holt took a deep breath before beginning.

"Mrs. Lestrange, I'm sorry," he said grimly. "Please try to understand we did all that we magically could do. Every effort was made… but I'm sorry to inform you that your child was stillborn."

"NO! I don't believe you!" She shouted. "Give me my baby!"

Holt's heart beat rapidly beneath his chest. He felt a sense of panic as though his whole future depended on this moment.

Stevenson stepped forward and partially unwrapped the cloth from the top portion of the bundle. Bellatrix screamed for the first time out of pure terror. She had never seen something so horrible. The small fleshy creature had purplish blue skin. Bellatrix pushed the woman away with all the strength she could manage.

Podmore caught Adelaide before she fell backwards with the dead infant. He had stood silently in the shadows observing the scene dispassionately. Inwardly, he felt satisfaction that the bitch had finally been cowed. She deserved neither compassion nor pity. Had she shown the Longbottoms any mercy? How many a mother's child had she killed? Finally, she was getting her just deserts. Now she would know anguish and grief.

"Take it away!" Bella shouted. She stifled the urge to cry out again, to sob – to scream in anguish. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing the infamous Bellatrix Black Lestrange brought down. "TAKE IT AWAY!" She ordered them.

This memory played over and over again in her mind during her stay in Azkaban. For thirteen years, she relived the horror and pain of those moments. And there were times when she regretted not holding the child if only to ascertain the gender. But perhaps it was better not to know. The baby was forever an 'it.' It was not a little boy or girl, but some thing that had never breathed air into its lungs or suckled at her breast.

She despaired at first. How could the Dark Lord fail her? He was invincible. No, the fault must rest elsewhere. They hadn't cared for her properly at the hospital. They had broken their promise and sent in incompetent fools to oversee the birth. She remembered those names: Holt, Stevenson, and Ingersoll. The Aurors, the Order and the Ministry were to blame too. They would pay for the death of her child. They had subjected her unborn fetus to Dementors, if only for the brief duration of the trial. They wanted her child to die. They had orchestrated the whole thing to stretch out the misery of a failed birth.

But one day, she would make them wish that they had never been born. The burning hatred and desire for vengeance kept her sane and alive in Azkaban. Her time would come again. The Dark Lord would rise again. He always kept his promises.

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**Author's Note: **Please, please, pretty please, write a review. 

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	4. Chapter 4 Threnody, Part 2

**Chapter 4 – Threnody, Part 2**

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**Warning: **The preceding story talks a little graphically about childbirth and the birth of a stillborn child. If you cannot mentally or emotionally handle this subject – **PLEASE**, do not read further. It is in no way meant to be offensive to anyone.

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_My life closed twice before its close;_

_It yet remains to see_

_If Immortality unveil_

_A third event to me,_

_So huge, so hopeless to conceive,_

_As these that twice befell._

_Parting is all we know of heaven,_

_And all we need of hell._

- Emily Dickinson (1830-86)

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**Tuesday, April 30th, 1982, The Eve of Beltane**

"I love you, Bev." Those had been the last words Roderick Fitzgerald Keating had said to his beloved wife, the mother of their two little boys, before a gray-haired Midwife had shepherded him out of the operating room. Rick had reluctantly let go of his wife's bloodstained hand as he whispered those words into her ear. Had she heard him?

They were an ocean away from home. The International Association for the Rights of Magical Beings had organized a gala dinner to honor Rick and his colleagues for their legal work advocating for the property rights of sentient and corporal beings. The association's planning committee had decided on London for the awards ceremony to accommodate their keynote speaker, Chiron, a venerable centaur, who would not set one hoof off the British Isles.

They should have followed the centaur's example and never left the continent, Rick thought. Or he should have attended the dinner alone. But Bev had seized upon the opportunity as a chance to view the new installation of Sofonisba Anguissola's portraits at the British Museum. And Rick had to admit that he wanted his incredibly witty and beautiful wife to accompany him on what promised to a bore fest. Most of all, Rick couldn't sleep comfortably without her lying next to him. The absence of her soft skin touching his as they slept made overnight business trips unbearable. Over the years, Rick had become adept at long distance Apparition so he could go home after grueling day abroad. Besides, Bev had argued, the law firm was covering all the expenses. Why waste the chance to travel first-class on a Muggle airplane, since she couldn't very well Apparate while pregnant? And Bev had teasingly added, 'I know how you love those honey roasted peanuts.' Her mischievous smile melted any reservations he had. So, the Keatings had decided to make a romantic getaway of it. Rick's mother volunteered to watch their rambunctious boys.

The day after the banquet, they spent the day visiting the places Bev had traversed during her wild Bohemian college days. They dined on fish and chips on the grassy lawn of Hyde Park watching the preparations for Beltaine. Bev her head back to remind Rick of the time his pants had caught on fire from his attempt to jump a bonfire, when they had been dating. Rick's mouth gaped in horror. He dropped the greasy food onto the checkered picnic blanket.

Blood had started to trickle out of Bev's right nostril. Suddenly, she clutched her chest. Her lovely face was contorted in an expression of anguish. He caught her before she fell down onto the hard ground. Then her water broke. "NO!" she screamed in pain. "NO! It's too soon." "Rick," she moaned his name, "It's too soon." It was the last thing she said before losing consciousness.

Rick started to pace around the waiting room. It was painted in the same shade of lime-green as the robes worn by the hospital staff of St. Mungo's. From the dingy window he could see the first rays of sunlight dawning.

A solemn faced witch approached him.

"Mr. Keating," she said.

"Yes," he acknowledged immediately. "How is my wife? The baby?"

"Please, have a seat Mr. Keating," she gestured at one of the many ugly puce colored chairs. He read her name off the tag above the hospital's emblem of a wand crossed with a bone, Healer Thalia Moreau. She sat down across from him.

"Oh, Merlin," he said running his hands over his face. It was never a good thing when people asked you to sit down as a prelude to delivering bad news. "Bev," he said.

"Your wife is in recovery," Moreau informed him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. And the baby?" he asked anxiously.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Keating. Your wife suffered a severe type of preeclampsia. There was too much damage to the placenta and the baby … did not survive. If it's any consolation to you, sir, she didn't suffer."

Rick's heart contract painfully. Tears streamed down his face. "A girl," he said dumbly. They had been hoping for a daughter. "Can I see my wife now? D-does she know?"

"Yes," Moreau answered. Rick followed the tall blonde down the silent hallway to his wife's room.

The lights had been dimmed. Beverly was holding a tiny bundle in her arms wrapped in white cloth like a shroud. He sat down on the bed beside her. He kissed her on the temple and the top of baby's head.

"I want to name her Sara Phoebe," she told him with a weak smile. "What do you think?"

"Sounds beautiful," he replied. Sara was the name of Bev's mother, whom he had never met. Sara Rothschild had committed suicide a month after the murder of her eldest daughter, Phoebe.

Beverly had dealt with so much tragedy. She knew all too well the cruelties of life. It was what allowed her to love unconditionally and appreciate all the good things.

"Sara Phoebe Keating," he said.

She knew he thought it morbid of her to give their daughter such a name. It was more than a memorial to her mother and sister, it was her faith that their baby would join them in the Next World. This was goodbye, but not the end of the journey.

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**Author's Note: **Much gratitude to Lady Alexandra, my second Reviewer and I'll of course Dayz-n-Passions-luvr will always be my first. Your reviews keep me writing.

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	5. Chapter 5 The Tangled Web

**Chapter 5 – The Tangled Web **

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**Author Notes: **Ever grateful to my two constant stars Jessica and Alexandra. Thanks for reading and cheering. Hang on for the next couple of twists and all will be revealed.

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"Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned."

- Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855), Jane Eyre

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**May 1st, 1982, Beltaine**

(Midpoint between the Vernal Equinox and the Summer Solstice)

The proudest day of Junior Auror Duncan Galway's life had been the day he graduated from the Auror Academy. His mother, an implacable matron, who had toiled all her life in the slums of Knockturn Alley to feed, shelter and clothe her two boys, had burst into tears. She had smiled and remarked on how sharp he looked in his uniform dress robes.

Duncan was handpicked after graduation to join the ranks of the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, by fellow Gryffindor, Franklin Longbottom.

Frank had been Head Boy, when Duncan had been a lowly second year. For whatever reason, the privileged older boy had taken him under his protective wing. He had encouraged Duncan to tryout for the Quidditch team. So, Duncan had started out hauling the equipment around, and eventually became a first-rate Beater. Even after the popular Head Boy had graduated, Duncan still received the occasional owl from Frank asking about how he was doing and prodding him to study harder and make something of himself. Frank had been like a father to him really. Angus Galway had died before Duncan had learnt to crawl. By all family accounts, the man had been a drunkard who had slapped his angelic mother around. So Duncan had been better off without him.

It was a sick twist of fate that Frank's little boy would never know his father as Duncan had.

Frank and Alice doted on their adorable little boy. Neville hadn't as of yet demonstrated any magical abilities. Although one time, the boy had pissed mighty high onto Frank's robes as he changed his dirty nappie. Duncan had laughed so hard at the scene that he thought his sides would split.

It broke Galway's heart that neither Frank nor Alice had been able to recognize their only son on any of the family visits to Ward 49. Mrs. Augusta Longbottom had held Neville close to the couple hoping that they'd come around. The wee lad had extended his chubby fingers as far as they could go – wanting to be held once more in the arms of his mother and father. Frank and Alice only stared glassy eyed at them as though they were strangers and not their closes kin. The fates were far too cruel in Galway's opinion - to condemn his mentor and his kind wife to this living death. When Sturgis had wondered out loud if it would have been more merciful to bring their lives to an end, Galway had pointed his wand deep into square-jawed wizard's throat. There was always hope. The future was yet to come. Frank had taught him that.

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Galway adjusted the baby girl in his arms as he pressed the button on the lift for the sixth floor. She stirred with a yawn and opened her eyes. They were a deep blue. Galway wondered if she might be hungry. Did Crouch have any milk? It was a long way to the Ukraine and the lass was bound to need some.

He arrived at Healer Holt's office and whispered the password, "_Lacta alea est._" The wards dropped and Galway entered. Crouch stood at the other end of the room looking out the window with a tumbler of Firewhiskey in hand.

"Galway," Crouch acknowledged the man as he turned and placed his glass down on the desk. "Did Podmore have any trouble with the Midwives?"

"No, sir," Galway replied. Sturgis had deftly dispatched the women with a few flicks of his wand. "Everything's going accordin' to plan. Here's the babe."

The infant began to wail startled by the sudden movement of his arms. Duncan rocked her gently. "Ah, don't cry," he cooed and tried to reassure the newborn. "Yeh, don'cha worry none. Yer going somewheres faraway. Decent people will bring you up. Not Death eaters that's fer sure." He tickled her underneath her chin and made a funny face. She stopped crying and gurgled. "Cute as a button ain't yah," he said.

"Ahem. Galway, we have a long journey ahead of us," Crouch said stiffly.

"Here yeh go, sir," Galway said. "Give her to some good folks… You've got milk and nappies, don't cha sir?" he asked nervously as Crouch awkwardly held the girl.

"I believe you and Podmore have someplace to go also," Crouch said dismissively.

It had been so long ago since Crouch had felt the weight of an infant in his arms. Barty junior had been cared for in his infancy by Mrs. Crouch with the help of Winky. Barty senior was the breadwinner and his wife took care of the home. It was the way of things. Crouch had played by the rules all his life. But his enemies didn't. Crouch had lost his picture-perfect family to the Dark Lord and his minions. They had destroyed his family and he would return the favor.

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Rodolphus paced his cell to keep warm. Hours before he had been informed that his wife had gone into labor. For the past six months, the baby had been a glimmer of hope that even the Dementors couldn't take from him. A son. He hoped it would be a boy to carry on the Lestrange name. But boy or girl, it didn't matter. The baby would be of his own flesh and blood. That was mattered. Even in death a part of him would go on living.

He felt the perpetual chill in his cell begin to dissipate. The Dementor that guarded him and two others had moved away. There was the noise of footsteps and clanging metal. An Auror with straw-colored hair let himself into the cell, another Auror stood outside the door. Rodolphus could make out the outline of a wand the man in the shadows had pointed at him. He found he could see better in the dark now.

"How are you this evening, Mr. Lestrange," the Auror greeted him.

Rodolphus had gotten used to the mocking tones of the Aurors and petty bureaucrats who occasionally visited him seeking more information about the Dark Lord and his followers.

"I'm fine," Rodolphus replied calmly. "And how are you Mr.---?"

"Podmore," the square-jawed man replied as he sat down on the wooden chair facing Rodolphus, who sat on the edge of his dirty cot. "Auror Sturgis Podmore."

"How can I be of service to the Ministry today?" Lestrange asked sarcastically.

"Well, Rudy, it is my _pleasure_. Excuse me, I mean my _duty_ to inform you," Podmore said and stopped to savor the moment. The desperate glint in Lestrange's gray-blue eyes, the man's lips curled in a wicked grin, "that your wife has finally given birth," he said.

"Was it a boy or a girl?" Lestrange asked.

"I was witness to the event. It was quite the show. Bellatrix had her legs spread for the whole world screaming and thrashing about. Lots of people came to take gander," Podmore said menacingly.

Rodolphus clenched his teeth in anger. _Don't give in_, he told himself. _He wants you to hit him. He's lying. He just wants to provoke you. The lying swine. _

"The baby, Podmore. Was it a boy or girl?" Lestrange asked again with suppressed anger and concern. "Is my wife alright?"

"What if I told you it was a hermaphrodite? You piece of pureblood shit. Always wanting sons, so you can pass down your inbreed genes." Podmore's scoffed. His face red from rage.

"Get on with it Podmore," the other Auror called out from outside. Galway's skin chilled. He felt like he could feel the Dementors meters away feeding off the other prisoners.

Podmore ignored the request and continued his game thoroughly enjoying Rodolphus' discomfort, "Trixie, that's my nickname for her," he said with a wink, "will be returning to Azkaban tomorrow morning, so maybe she should be the one to tell you. Oh, wait… she can't. She told them to just take it away. Is it funny? Your wife doesn't even know if she pushed out a girl or boy today."

"What are you playing at Podmore?" Rodolphus asked.

"Where are my manners?" Podmore continued. "I should be congratulating you. You're the proud new father of a _stillborn_. The baby was born quite dead… and really quite ugly. That's why Trixie told them to take it the damned thing away. Better off, I'd say," Podmore laughed viciously. "Your kind are dying off on their own."

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Rodolphus threw himself onto the Auror. He was struck none too few hexes and curses that left him lying on the dirt floor in a bloody heap. The Aurors were more satisfied delivering kicks and punches with their bare hands.

"For Frank and Alice," they said.

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**Author Notes: **

_Lacta alea est _is Latin for "the die is cast."

Please review.

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	6. Chapter 6 A Time to Mourn

**Chapter 6 – A Time to Mourn **

_You were born, you had body, you died._

_It is just that you never giggled or planned or cried._

_Believe me, I loved you…_

_Believe me, I knew you, though faintly, and I loved you, I loved you._

_- _Excerpted from Gwendolyn Brooks_, The Mother_

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**Warning: **Read warnings from previous chapters. **  
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**May 1,1982, Beltaine **

A dark-skinned woman in black robes approached the altar table, where a small bundle wrapped in a white muslin cloth lay in the center of the carved pentagram. In front of the table was a newly polished granite tombstone. The Priestess Ramla lit a large white pillar candle on the table with neither wand nor words. Just a wave of her hand ignited the wick. It cast a delicate glow on her bronzed skin.

"This is a place which is not a place in a time which is not a time halfway between the worlds of the Gods and of mortals," she said reverently. The four corners approached.

Roderick Keating came forward to the altar and tilted his candle to be lit by the larger one. He took his place at the side of the grave. He had awoken at sunrise to dig up the earth he was about to place his only daughter in. "I come from the East, from which the sun will rise again. As the sun sets, so my d-daughter has left us," he paused to compose himself for a moment – closing his blue eyes tightly. He took a deep breathe and continued, "The water of our tears like the salt water of the sea, and like the water of our mother's womb, blesses this Circle." He planted his lit candle into the ground.

Next, Midwife Edith Ingersoll lighted her white candle from the one the Priestess had lit as well. She solemnly took her place at the foot of the grave. "I come from the South, to say, that life will continue. As life is a day, so this little girl has passed into night. Still her memory lives and blesses this Circle," she said and placed her candle into the earth.

Beverly Keating stood at the side of the grave opposite to the husband. "I come from the West, to say that love is all that we can be sure of. It endures all things. All that falls shall rise again, so my daughter will be reborn." She bit her lip to stop the tears from choking her before she could finish. "T-the air we breathe, this treasure of our life, the compassionate caring we give each other blesses this Circle." She too placed her candle into the ground.

Healer Moreau stood at the head of the grave. The wind blew stray blonde hairs from her tight French braid askew. "I am from the North, to say that the Mother is eternal. As the Earth forms us, so this little girl returns to the earth. Our Mother feeds us, and clothes us. She gives us everything and in the end she takes our bodies back. And earth blesses this Circle."

The circle of light was completed. They all joined hands and chanted as one, "We all come from the Goddess and to Her we shall return like a drop of rain falling to the ocean. All that falls shall rise again."

Rick and Bev both went to the altar. They each carried their child in turn. They kissed her goodbye for the last time wetting the funeral shroud with their tears. Then they laid her down into the dark earth. And they filled their hands with the fertile soil and began to place it over their daughter like a blanket. Healer Moreau, Midwife Ingersoll and the Priestess, Ramla each took part in the burial. They patted down the earth gently as though tucking the child into bed.

When the others had left, Bev and Rick remained kneeled before the grave of their little girl in the cemetery adjoined to St. Mungo's Hospital. They traced their fingers over the letters etched into the stone:

Here lies

SARA PHOEBE KEATING

Beloved Daughter

Born and Died on April 30th, 1982

Other diminutive tombstones were neighbors to Sara Phoebe's grave. They protruded from the ground nestled in dirt, grass and decaying blooms. Woeful reminders of the fragility of life.

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**Author's Notes: **The burial ceremony described in this chapter was influenced by the actual Wiccan funeral ritual. It is not meant to offend any praciticing Wiccans. This is fiction. The cycle of life and death, the return to the earth, and the reverence for a matriarchal figure were beliefs that the fictional characters would hold to. "If we shadows have offended / Think but this, and all is mended," that you can click away this image that haunts your computer screen.

On a happier note, thanks to Jessica, Lady Alexandra, and 4thBlackSister! If it weren't for your reviews I don't think I'd be able to go on. This was a sad chapter, but things will turn around. Thanks for the insight 4thBlackSister.

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	7. Chapter 7 Sweet Revenge, Part 1

**Chapter 7 - O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee; Part 1**

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"_**Be comforted:**_

_**Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,**_

_**To cure this deadly grief."**_

- William Shakespeare, _Macbeth_

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Alan never remained in the Janus Thickey Ward for more than a quarter of an hour. Fifteen minutes was the exact duration of his stay. He would greet his two former colleagues, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom at one o'clock sharp with warm hellos. He'd add his flowers to the unbreakable glass vase by their bedsides.

Today his gift of pale pink roses came to stand side-by-side with the daises and daffodils left by some earlier visitor. He refilled the water pitcher even though it was full. It was something to do for them – for her. He held a one-sided conversation with them chatting about the weather or his last visit to see his godson, Neville.

There had been times when they would look at him askance or with particular interest and he hoped beyond hope that they were awakening from this living nightmare. But it always came to nothing. It was a fly that had caught their attention or the dust motes floating in a shaft of sunlight.

At one-fourteen, he said his goodbyes. At one-fifteen he was out the door. He never looked back. And he never stayed longer than exactly fifteen minutes. He was too afraid that if he stayed any longer he'd never be able to pull himself away.

Alan Oscar McCalister, the youngest captain of the elite squad of Hit Wizards, in the history of the Ministry's department of Magical Law Enforcement, known for his skills in wand marksmanship and stealth, could not pinpoint the exact moment when he realized he had fallen in love with Alice née Teague. How could such passionate affections have stolen so quietly upon him?

Alice "Liccy" Teague had just been another recruit. Her round face reminded him of a painting of cherubs he had once seen on a Muggle postcard. As such, he hadn't seen much potential in her. Although she was academically gifted, by her O.W.L. and N.E.W.T scores, it did not automatically mean that someone was equipped to be an Auror, who would be expected to know things that could not be taught in any textbook. He had thought she was in over her head and had gone so far as to bet Alastor Moody twenty Galleons that Teague wouldn't last three months on the job.

He had never been so happy to part with gold. Liccy turned out to be one of the most talented Aurors he had ever served with. She was cool and collected under pressure even with hexes and curses flying over their heads, but she also had a rare compassion for those in need.

One spring afternoon, as they were returning to headquarters, after an all-night stakeout gathering reconnaissance, they happened upon a baby sparrow that had fallen from its nest. They were supposed to brief Crouch, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and then return to their respective flats. Neither of them had slept in over 30 hours.

But no, a baby bird needed help. It was Liccy Teague to the rescue. She corralled him into helping her search all the nearby treetops until they finally found the nest just before nightfall.

Alan had made whinged the whole time, but in truth it had been one of the happiest days of his life. They Disillusioned themselves and rode their brooms over the tree tops. The sunlight made her chestnut hair take on shades of burnished gold. Liccy had held the little sparrow gently cupped in the palms of her delicate hands. Those beautiful porcelain hands had touched his own when she handed him the bird to hold for a moment as she tried to fix the bird's collapsed nest with some charms.

Alan, dolt that he was finally realized he was in love. He treated the prospect of dating Alice with the attitude of a cautious strategist. He mulled over the ethics of courting someone who was his professional subordinate. What if she said no and filed sexual harassment charges? He considered the ramifications of dating someone under his command. He went so far as to make bloody pro and con lists to weigh the seemingly dire consequences. McCalister's inner turmoil went on for days and weeks and months until…

Franklin Longbottom transferred into the squad.

Alan was too late.

He had waited too long and lost the chance for what could have been. Nonetheless, he found himself in the unenviable position of being in love with another man's wife, both of whom were under his charge.

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**November 1, 1981**

_Festum omnium sanctorum, All Saints Day, "Hallowmas"_

McCalister had been among the first to arrive on the scene. Frank and Alice had made a cozy home for themselves in Lancashire. It was close to the old Longbottom estate. Augusta, the formidable matriarch, had railed against the newlyweds for abandoning Longbottom Keep. What was she, an old woman, going to do with a thirty-bedroom manor? But Frank and Ally had stood their ground. They wanted to live their lives simply.

It had been a cloudless night. The stars shone brightly against the black sky. The Dark Mark, that unnatural constellation, had cast an eerie green glow on the white paint of the Longbottom's cozy two-story house.

Glass and pieces of broken furniture littered the den. The pretty floral wallpaper was splattered with blood. The couch and bassinet were overturned. And Frank and Ally were screaming and convulsing in pain on the hardwood floor. Their baby's shrieking cries joining in the hellish chorus.

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**Author's Notes: **

The chapter title, 'O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee' is from Shakespeare's, _Titus Andronicus_, Act 5, Scene 2.

Thanks to Jessica, Alexandra, and the4thBlackSister, your reviews are so encouraging.


	8. Chapter 8 Sweet Revenge, Part 2

**Chapter 8 - O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee; Part 2**

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**  
_"**When the stars threw down their spears **_

_**And watered heaven with their tears…"**_

- William Blake, The Tyger, _Songs of Experience_, 1789

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**November 17, 1981**

(The Leonids reach their peak)

It had taken nearly every Auror in the Ministry and some help from the ICW, but within two weeks after the attack on the Longbottoms, they had tracked down the four villains to their hideout in southern France. In true pureblood fashion, the Lestranges and Crouch junior had taken refuge in the palatial Château Margaux, the ancestral home of the Lestranges since the twelfth century. The estate encompassed over two hundred acres of land including renowned vineyards that produced some of the world's best Bordeaux.

McCalister had been pushing his people day and night to find the fugitives by any means necessary. There was no time to be wasted in obeying the strictures of rules or in discussing the ethics of their actions. This was war and anything that furthered their goal was acceptable.

The Aurors rounded up fifty house elves bound to either the Blacks or Lestranges for questioning, despite centuries of laws preventing these magical servants from testifying against their masters. Half of them committed suicide before they could even be questioned. However, the Aurors soon found out that the elves had little tolerance for the Unforgivables. _Crucio_ left them mental unstable.

McCalister had the most success by casting Imperious on one of the older house elves. Blood had trickled from his enormous bat-like ears and his large yellow-eyes rolled up into his head. The house elf's loyalty to the Black family could not save him from the coercive pull of the curse. In the end, the house elf, Kreacher, divulged the whereabouts of his mistress' daughter, before descending into unconsciousness. He had whispered the word, 'Margaux,' before passing out. They thought it was a name at first and exhausted the Ministry of Records for all people with similar sounding names, but it all came to naught. It was Galway who stumbled across an old yellowing contract granting the Lestranges a license to make a property in France Unplottable.

Thirty Aurors were dispatched to block off the perimeter of the estate on the ground and monitor the air space over the compound. The Enforcers of the ICW set wards preventing Disapparation. The Hit Wizard squad and the Enforcers took up their posts around the chateau.

"Messieurs Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Bartemius Crouch, and Madame Bellatrix Lestrange, we 'ave you surrounded," a French Enforcer called out to the chateau, his voice amplified a hundred-fold by a _Sonorous_ charm. The main house appeared deserted. There were no lights in the windows or any movement that could be seen. But there was no doubt that the criminals were within its walls.

"Zere iz no way out. If you surrender yourselves, you will be taken into ze custody of ze Ministry of Magic of ze United Kingdom. You must come out with your hands raised. If we see one wand drawn, we will not hesitate to use extreme force to subdue you. What iz your answer?"

A single light could be seen in one of the upper windows of the palatial manor. Then one by one, Rabastan, Barty Crouch junior, Rodolphus and Bellatrix emerged from the front door. As hard as it is to believe, the infamous gang gave themselves up without a single hex or curse having to be cast. Of course, this information was never released to the press. It was naturally assumed by the public that the Aurors had fought valiantly in some life or death struggle to apprehend the fiends. McCalister had even been award the second order of Merlin just for appearance sake.

But victory tasted like ashes to Alan. This had not been the battle he had been anticipating. There was not satisfaction to be found in this 'peaceful surrender.' Where was his battle to the death? He had been waiting for this moment – this chance to pay them all back in kind for their crimes. He would have them writhing in agony and screaming in pain just like they had done to his poor Liccy. McCalister's own squad had to restrain him from blasting the lot straight to hell after they had been apprehended. Hell was where they belonged, if the devil would take them.

It was only later that the Aurors and the Ministry learned the reason for the surrender; Bellatrix was pregnant. Rodolphus and Rabastan were the last of the Lestranges and the continuation of their lineage mattered more to them than prison. Crouch junior had no choice but to go along.

The trial had been a farce. Six dementors had escorted the gang of four into the Wizengamot courtroom. Rodolphus and Bellatrix seated themselves like bloody royalty as though the chairs they were chained to were thrones. Rabastan and Barty junior looked like they were ready to piss themselves though.

After the unanimous verdict of life time imprisonment in Azkaban, the bitch, Bellatrix had spoken out in defiance, _'The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us; he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"_

There was no remorse. No conscience. What happy memories could she or any of them have for the dementors to feed on? They weren't human. They had sold their souls to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Even with him gone, they still followed their dark master's will, with all that was left of their black malevolent hearts. These bastards who had murdered the soul of the only woman he had ever loved and orphaned her child were _still breathing_ and Alan found that fact intolerable.

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**_"He who fights against monsters should see to it that he does not become a monster._**

_**When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."**_

Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), _Beyond Good and Evil_, 1886

* * *

Surprisingly, it had been Crouch senior, who masterminded the plan. The staid bureaucrat, who did everything by the book down to the last comma, had come to McCalister the day after the trial smelling of whiskey. They hatched the scheme together.

McCalister recruited Galway and Podmore, who had been more than eager to sign on. They swore each other to secrecy with an Unbreakable Pact. They would have their vengeance. 'Operation Nemesis' Crouch called it, after the remorseless Greek goddess of divine retribution from whom there was no escape.

McCalister used the contacts he obtained from Crouch to obtain information on rural orphanages in the Ukraine, a Soviet conquered territory that was remote and impoverished. There would be no efforts made to locate the child's parents or relatives. Life in the country was short, nasty and brutish. A famine was wiping out the Muggles by the millions. Orphans were a dime a dozen. He would leave the Lestrange baby on the doorstep of the Zaporizhzha Home for Orphans in Odessa.

It was a decrepit institution housing nearly thirty infants at any given time. The babies rarely cried after they had resided in the orphanage for a week or two. They learned to stop crying out to be nursed, changed or held. The babes quickly surmised that no one would be moved by their cries of distress. It was a place, where children rarely made it to their third birthdays. It was a place, Liccy would have protested to the Ministry about. She would have tried to adopt the whole lot of them. He would have like to see the look on Augusta's face when her daughter-in-law brought thirty Ukrainian orphans to fill the empty rooms of Longbottom Hall.

"Why even bother with a bloody orphanage?" Podmore had asked irritably during their planning session. Sturgis had lost his older brother Bernard in a duel to Rabastan Lestrange. The murder of his only brother had made Sturgis bitter and resentful. "What if they're able to trace it back to us? It's more trouble than its bloody well worth. I say, dump it in a Muggle bin or throw it in the Thames."

"We can't just kill it!" Galway had shouted back indignantly.

"That thing Bellatrix is carrying around is hell spawn and we all know it," Podmore exclaimed. "It's just going to grown up to be as bad an apple as its parents. Can you imagine the damage it'll do when it grows up? Why can't we just get it rid of it quick and easy?"

"Because we're not baby killers for Merlin's sake!" McCalister had shouted back almost foaming with rage.

It would have been murder most foul – to kill a child for the sins of its parents. Even the Lestranges and Barty junior hadn't sunk so low. Those monsters had stopped short of taking his godson's life.

But was sending the offspring of the Lestranges off to a Ukrainian Muggle orphanage really all that different from outright murder? If the baby managed to live long enough to walk and talk, what would happen if it started making things move? Or began displaying its magical abilities in some other form?

'_Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live_,' commanded one of the Muggle holy books. The sentence still sent shivers down his spine ever since McCalister had first come across it in his schoolboy days, in _A History of Magic. _It was for reasons like these that the Magical World had to be concealed from Muggles.

Muggles in general were fearful of things they did not understand. Modern Muggles tried to explain magical phenomena away with science. But in rural areas, the belief in supernatural forces still existed. To them Magic was inherently evil. It didn't matter if a wizard or witch used their craft to save a village from a landslide or some other cataclysmic event – in the end the Muggles would be frightened of such 'unnatural' power. Magic was blamed for everything from natural disasters and to every human disease. Muggles, who still clung to superstitious traditions, would not tolerate magic amongst them even if such power resided in a child.

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**Author's Notes**: 

1) Thanks to Jessica, Alexandra, and the4thBlackSister - your reviews give me a reason to go on. And thanks to the silent readers out there too.

2) http/ According to Wikipedia: "The Leonids are a prolific meteor shower associated with the comet Tempel-Tuttle. The meteor shower associated with the comet Tempel-Tuttle. The meteor shower is visible every year around November 17 when the Earth moves through the Leonid stream." The meteors appear to stream from the sky. They look a lot like spears – see the image from NASA of the 1966 in the online entry. It reminded me of Blake's poem. I figured I had abused Shakespeare enough… for now.

3) "O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee" is still from _Titus Andronicus_, Act 5 Scene 2. 

4) Th Château Margaux is a real place in southern France that does produce some of the world's finest red wines.

5) And next chapter will provide the answer to the question: what happened to the baby?


	9. Chapter 9 Resembling

**Chapter 9 – 'Resembling sire and child and happy mother'**

"What have you got there?" Alan asked the one-year-old boy sitting upright on a floral carpet.

"Buh-ball," Neville spluttered. Drool ran down his chin and onto his bib embroidered with a yellow duck. "Uh-up!" He said clutching at the hem of Alan's robes. "Up, Gotfah!" The babe insisted.

Alan picked the boy up in his arms in fulfillment of his godfather duties. Neville resembled Liccy so much that it broke his heart to look at the boy sometimes. Nev had the same round shaped face and light brown eyes.

The little boy pointed the way towards the mantle lined with ornately framed photos. One in particular drew his attention. It had been taken at his Christening. Frank and Liccy were proudly presenting him as a newborn.

"Dada," Neville said knowingly, poking a chubby finger into Frank's eye. The photo version of Frank winced but waved at the boy nonetheless as he nursed his injured eye. "Sowwie… Dada," the boy apologized sincerely to the mute photo.

Neville turned his head to face his godfather, as though introducing him to people he had never met. "Mama," Neville said, pointing more carefully at his mother. Liccy rocked the newborn in her arms, while smiling tenderly back at her son outside the confines of the glass frame.

"That's right," Alan congratulated the boy and turned his own eyes sadly away from the photo of his beloved. Neville gave his godfather an open-mouthed smile that revealed his four new teeth and clapped his hands together.

Madame Longbottom was meeting with her accountant and barristers to manage the family's many properties. So, Alan had more than happily volunteered himself to baby-sit his godson.

Neville was also determined to make the most of his time with Gotfah. Nana did not sit down on the floor and roll the ball with him like Gotfah did. Nana more often than not, did not heed his requests to be picked up, unlike Gotfah who lifted him up after a tug or two.

Nana's reaction to Neville's request to be picked up usually resulted in a shrill cry of, _"Bingly!" _

Then a big eared creature would pop in startling the babe and magically levitate him. But it was not the same as having warm arms wrapped around him in the reassuring way he missed ever since his Mama and Dada had gone to Mungo's. One day, when he was big, Nev would rescue them from the scary place.

Right now, all that mattered was that Gotfah was here to play with him and he would enjoy the present moments as much as he could. Meanwhile, Alan sifted through his memories of the past and was consumed with thoughts of vengeance against those that had robbed his godson of his parents.

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** Excerpt from Shakespeare's, _The Winter's Tale_, Act 2, Scene 3:**

** Leontes: **

_** We enjoin thee,**_

_** As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carry**_

_**This female bastard hence and that thou bear it**_

_**To some remote and desert place quite out**_

_**Of our dominions, and that there thou leave it,**_

_**Without more mercy, to its own protection**_

_**And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune**_

_**It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,**_

_**On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture,**_

_**That thou commend it strangely to some place**_

_**Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.**_

_(King Leontes believing that his wife, Queen Hermione, has given birth to a daughter that is not biologically his, charges Lord Antigonus with the task of abandoning the infant in the wilderness.)_

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The trio, Rodolphus, Rabastan and Bellatrix, had taken away the people Crouch, Podmore, Galway and McCalister had cherished. Together they formed a quartet to play the singular role of Nemesis. They would be the hand of divine retribution that avenges the righteous.

But what kind of revenge could possibly balance the scale? What would be the equivalent of the Longbottoms' stolen sanity; Barty junior's corrupted innocence, or the life of one Bernard Podmore?

Their answer… the heir of the Lestranges.

"_It's a bargain really,"_ McCalister had thought, _"Four lives for the price of one."_

For a pureblood family, a healthy child was precious beyond measure. An infant was an opportunity for new alliances, another source of magical power, but most of all a baby represented hope.

Hope was a commodity the purebloods could not purchase with all the gold in Gringotts. A child meant the continuation of the bloodline into the next generation; a new link in a long chain that would stretch ad infinitum.

Crouch, Podmore, Galway and McCalister; the Pact of Four, would break that most ancient chain. They would decimate their enemies in a way that Unforgivables could not. There would be no child bearing the name of Lestrange. There would be no future Lestranges.

The bloodline would die out with the trio. With luck, they would succumb to the horrors of Azkaban and starve themselves to death or go mad.

"_Good riddance to bad blood,"_ they had toasted each other with firewhiskey, after signing the Unbreakable Pact.

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**Antigonus:**

**_I swear to do this, though a present death_**

**_Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe:_**

**_Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens_**

**_To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say_**

**_Casting their savageness aside have done_**

**_Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous_**

**_In more than this deed does require! And blessing_**

**_Against this cruelty fight on thy side,_**

**_Poor thing, condemn'd to loss!_**

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**Wednesday, May 1st, 1982, Beltane**

(Midpoint between the Vernal Equinox and the Summer Solstice)

"Here you are Alan," Crouch handed the squalling baby to him. "It's a girl," he said in a sarcastic tone.

Alan rocked the nameless little girl gently in his arms to soothe her cries. She was probably hungry. It dawned on him that the Lestrange baby was no longer some abstract being, but real enough to touch and hold. The baby girl was not the hell spawn he had imagined. Alan didn't know what an 'evil' baby would look like. Perhaps he thought there would be some indication of her maligned heritage, but she had neither horns nor a forked tail. He brushed a finger over her downy black hair. There was no birthmark in the shape of a triple six on her scalp. The infant, wrapped in the soft pink blanket gazed at him with deep blue almost black eyes. She was small and helpless and… innocent.

"You're not sympathizing with the enemy now?" Crouch accused. He narrowed his eyes at McCalister. The man was fawning over the infant.

McCalister sighed and shook his head. They both knew there was no turning back. Alan had signed the Pact. He could not very well announce to the Lestranges that their baby had not died and hand her over to the Malfoys, without revealing his complicity along with the others in a vengeful plot. Like so many other times before, it seemed that Alan McCalister was too late to make a difference.

He'd been too late in confessing his love to Alice Teague.

He'd been too late to save her and Frank from the Death Eaters.

And now it seemed that he was too late to save this nameless infant.

"Fuck, not you too," Crouch swore uncharacteristically and paced Healer Holt's office. "First, Galway and now you," he sneered. "She may look innocent now. But give her over to the Malfoys and she'll be a future Death Eater for sure. We've been over this Alan!" Crouch shouted in frustration.

"Alright!" McCalister replied heatedly. The girl began crying again. "Do you have any milk or formula?" he asked Crouch.

"Just drop her off at the orphanage as we agreed," Crouch seethed. "They can feed her there. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to." He Apparated with a loud, _'CRACK!'_

Seconds later, so did Alan with the newborn.

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** Antigonus: **

_ I'll pawn the little blood which I have left_

_To save the innocent: any thing possible._

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**Thursday, May 2nd, 1982**

"Ready for discharge, Mrs. Keating?" Healer Moreau asked in the doorway of her patient's room.

"Please call me Beverly," the raven haired American reminded her. "Thank you again for standing in as one of the Corners."

Mrs. Keating's gaze drifted to the moving bundle wrapped in pink that Healer Moreau was haphazardly holding in one arm. It was a baby. A baby girl.

Mr. Keating saw the stricken look on his wife's face. _"Merlin, of all the insensitive things to do," _he thought.

"Here are your discharge papers," Moreau said. The tall blonde reached for some parchment jutting out of the pocket of her robe. The baby tipped dangerously toward the floor as she did so. Rick instinctively took the infant safely from the woman's arms.

"Oh, Sweet Nimue!" Moreau gasped in relief. "It's just been a madhouse around here with all the festivities. We're just filled to capacity and shorthanded. Thank you, Mr. Keating. I'm so sorry. I was on my way back to the nursery and thought I'd discharge you on the way. You know two birds; one stone," she said sheepishly.

The baby wailed. Rick patted her gently in an attempt to console the infant. "_Don't worry, little one, I won't let the crazy Healer get you," _he said to her mentally.

"Healer Moreau, I understand you're under a lot of pressure, but if you're too stressed to work, I think it would be safer for your patients if you rested up," he tried to be diplomatic but the words came out like a reprimand.

"Yes, sir," Moreau responded almost militarily; then relaxed. "Yes, of course your right," she said. The tall blonde took off her glasses and rubbed at the bridge of her nose trying to recover herself. "It's just," she frowned at the child. "The poor darling." Then she abruptly, switched back to a more professional demeanor, "If you could just hold her for a moment, Mr. Keating, we'll proceed with the discharge," she said.

He nodded. Bev stood next to her husband and peered down at the infant. Rick met his wife's hazel eyes. They were filled with the pain of grief and loss… and need.

"You just need to sign at the bottom and then you'll be set to go," Moreau said as she handed Beverly the quill and held the parchment still on the table for her to sign.

But Beverly held the quill listlessly in her hand, "Why did you call her 'poor darling'? Is she ill?"

"Did I?" Moreau asked in a flustered voice. "I shouldn't have said that… But no she's perfectly healthy. It just infuriates me that… they're sending her off to an orphanage."

"An orphanage! But why?" Bev exclaimed. The quill fell to floor. Black droplets flecked the grayish-white floor tiles.

"She'll probably be adopted right away," Rick said trying to relieve his wife's anxiety.

Moreau shook her head. "Normally, that would be true, but the poor girl's being sent to the Ukraine. They have plenty of orphans. And under Communist rule, they've banned all foreign adoptions."

"Why is she being sent to the Ukraine?" Rick asked.

"The girl's mother died in childbirth. She was born out of wedlock. The mother's family was prominent, you see. They've managed to hide the pregnancy, but with the mother dead, they decided it would be too shameful for them to raise an illegitimate child. So, they requested that she be sent abroad to a country they knew she couldn't return from," Moreau explained grimly.

"What about the father?" Bev asked.

Moreau snorted, "He agreed with the girl's family. His exact words were, 'It's either the orphanage or the bin for the sprog.' He's a real heartless bastard. He was only here to see that his name was not put on the birth certificate. Doesn't want any association."

"Oh, you poor baby," Bev stroked the little girl's cheek with a finger. The baby gurgled. She was just adorable. How could anyone give her up?

"Yes," Moreau fiddled with the quill. "Poor thing has gotten a rotten start in life and she's barely a day old."

"_She was born after Sarah Phoebe died," _Bev thought to herself. _"She was born on Beltane." _ "Children born on Beltane belong to the Goddess," she whispered aloud.

"What was that?" Rick asked worriedly.

"It's an old superstition, Loretta told me," she explained as she signed the papers. "Children born on Beltane are considered to be special children of the Lord and Lady. In the Old Days, the entire village was responsible for their upbringing; not just their parents. They believed the children were especially blessed by Them.

"And that the God and Goddess would visit their children to see if they were being properly cared for. They would bless the villagers who nurtured their sons and daughters. They cursed those who neglected or harmed them."

Moreau appeared strangely perturbed by Mrs. Keating's revelation.

"Sort of like an angry social worker," Rick said jokingly.

"Something like that," Bev said smiling slightly. "I'll hold her while you sign."

She took the newborn in her arms and ran a finger gently over the baby's dark hair and over the tiny fingers. Sara Phoebe had had black hair as well. The weight of an infant in her arms felt so right. The baby girl looked at Bev intently with her dark eyes.

"I think we should adopt her, Rick," she said.

"Bev, we just lost our little girl. We haven't had time to mourn," Rick said placing on comforting arm on his wife's shoulders. "We haven't even broken the news to our family. Don't you think it would be confusing for the boys, when we told them that their biological sister died, but we've got another one instead," he reasoned. "It wouldn't be right for us to substitute this baby for the one we lost," he said more gently.

"This isn't about replacing the daughter we lost," Bev explained affronted slightly by her husband's inference. "I don't believe anything happens without a reason. We just lost our daughter. And this little girl just lost her mother. We have a family that's been waiting for a baby and she's all alone in the world. We may not keep all the Old Traditions, but I think its fate that's brought us all together. For Merlin's sake, Rick. Look at her. She could be mistaken for our biological daughter."

It was true, Rick admitted to himself. The girl had black hair like Bev's. Although, his own blue eyes were not nearly as dark, the baby could be passed off as their own.

"Healer Moreau brought her here, Beverly. Not fate," Rick replied casting the Healer a look of suspicion. She had planned this somehow. He was convinced of it.

Fate, the Goddess, Beltane… Beverly had never been one for the Traditions. But Healer Moreau couldn't have arranged for all the other events: the stillbirth of the Keating's daughter and this baby's mother dying in childbirth. Death after death. Yet, here was new life that had been borne from it.

Bev looked so natural holding the child in her arms. She was already cooing at the little girl. _But could he love a child that wasn't of his own flesh and blood?_ Rick questioned himself. He didn't know. That was something time would have to tell. It was obvious that Bev was in love with the 'poor darling.' And his wife meant more to him than his own life.

"Would it be possible to adopt the baby?" he asked Moreau. Bev kissed him on the cheek.

"Yes," Moreau replied enthusiastically. "I'll go get the adoption papers."

**

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Author's Notes: **

1) Thanks to Jessica and Alexandra yet again! Luckily, I had the day off from school and work to finish up Chapter 9.

2) I lack a Beta reader, but if someone has suggestions on that I'd appreciate any info. This is my first fanfic and sometimes when I look back I can see  
some glaring errors… blech.

3) And my abuse of Shakespeare continues. The title is from Sonnet VIII.

4) And I know you're all wondering when Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange will make their reappearance. Don't worry. They will.


	10. Chapter 10 What's in a Name?

**Chapter 10 – What's in a name?**

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_Peace and rest at length have come,  
All the day's long toil is past;  
And each heart is whispering, "Home,  
Home at last!"  
_ - Thomas Hood (1799 – 1845), _Home At Last_

_

* * *

_**Wednesday, May 15th, 1982**

"She reminds me of an illustration of Snow-White," a woman with graying auburn hair recalled with a sad smile. The hand-painted watercolor of the dying queen holding her daughter for the first and last time had been preserved in an early eighteenth century Italian copy of the Grimm fairytales she had come across at the Biblioteca Lancisiana.

"A child, as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and hair as black as ebony," she recited. The image of a young queen sewing at a window as snowflakes fell like white feathers wishing for a child, filled Loretta with a familiar and unfulfilled longing.

Her husband, Willard Delamere, drew nearer to examine the infant girl cradled in her arms. He assessed the child with a critical eye. She had fair skin, raven hair like her mother's and her eyes were black… no, an inky blue. That was a bit unusual. Most of the Keatings had light blue or hazel eyes.

"Snow-White, you say. She is a bit on the pale side, isn't she?" He ran a finger gently over the babe's porcelain cheek. She made a small cooing sound. "Does she feel cold to you?" he asked Loretta in concern.

"Now that you mention it, she does feel cool," she said frowning. Loretta held the infant closer to her own body. "There must be a draft nearby. We should move the bassinet farther away from the window."

"The Grimm brothers didn't say Snow-White was supposed to be as cold as snow," commented Will. There was no draft in the room that he could feel.

"Ow!" he shouted suddenly. A black leather handbag repeatedly rammed itself into Will's before returning to the manicured clutches of its owner.

"Oh, Evie, I didn't see you there," Willard greeted his older sister.

"You're lucky…" _WHACK!_ "That Rick…" _WHACK!_ "And Bev…" _WHACK!_ "Didn't overhear you!" _WHACK!_ Evelyn berated him in her shrill commanding voice. She huffed from the effort of assaulting him with the handbag.

The baby cried distressingly at the commotion.

"Now look what you've done! You've gotten my granddaughter all upset," she said giving her bag to her brother to hold.

"_I _made her upset?"

"Make yourself useful, Willy," she said knowing that he hated the nickname. She took her granddaughter from the arms of her sister-in-law. She patted the infant's back to soothe its cries. "There, there precious, you're mean old great uncle didn't mean anything by it or _he better not have_," she glared at him over the baby's head shooting daggers at him from her steely blue eyes.

"What did you hit me for?" Willard asked rubbing his sore arm and shoulder.

"You know better than to say such macabre things about the baby being as cold as the freezing snow. She was born almost three months premature," she chided him harshly. She felt the infant's forehead as though checking for a fever. "She is a bit cool," she admitted. "I'll have Bev bring her in for a check-up. Merlin, knows who the British give Healer licenses to these days. And those Yankee doctors of theirs are probably no better. Maybe they'll finally come to their senses and leave that city of sin."

Willard rolled his eyes at Evelyn's antiquated notions. The South was a paradise of gentility, while the North was a den of debauchery.

"Maybe it's to do with her blood circulation," she frowned bouncing the girl in her arms. The little angel smiled and drool trickled from the corner of her ruby lips. She wasn't as small as Evie had expected a premature infant to be. When Rick and Bev had returned with the child in tow, Evie had almost died of shock. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was ecstatic to have a granddaughter to spoil with frilly dresses and dollies, she would have given the young couple the tongue lashing of a lifetime for not flooing her sooner about Beverly's condition.

"You just mind your mouth, Willard Mayer Delamere, especially when Beverly is around. She's been through an ordeal. Imagine going into labor so soon in some alien country. This is why women in my day convalesced."

"They do speak English in Britain," quipped Loretta, who enjoyed nettling her sister-in-law. "And I believe convalescence is a euphemism for imprisoning pregnant women," she added for good measure.

There was a tense silence as they recalled that awful Beltane Eve's night, when Rick had flooed the Delameres from St. Mungo's. They had never seen their nephew so terrified. Even in the green flames they could see the naked fear in his eyes as he told them that Beverly had gone into labor. And though it was left unsaid, Loretta and Willard knew it was far too soon into the pregnancy for Bev to deliver. Rick asked his aunt and uncle to help his mother watch the boys at their New York townhouse.

Willard had considered Apparating to London instead, but Rick wanted to make sure the boys were taken care of. No doubt he was also needed at the Keating's home to calm his sister. Rick would ask for his help if it was needed. Sometimes a man just needed to be alone.

Sunlight poured into the parlor, where the three senior adults were gathered. The large curved bay window overlooked the sprawling lawn and gardens of Keating Hall. Rick and Beverly were outside with the boys showing them how to ride broomsticks that only flew 2 feet above ground. Will and Danny squealed with delight. They had missed their parents terribly during their short three-day absence. Fortune had smiled on the family. They narrowly escaped the jaws of tragedy.

"Ahem," Willard cleared his throat to break the quiet. "You're right, Evelyn," he said apologetically. "That was tactless of me."

She nodded. Her brother had always been something of a peacemaker, which was probably why he had married such a firebrand. Loretta was perpetually getting under her skin.

"Any ideas for a middle name to go with Seraphina?" asked Will trying to switch to a more pleasant subject.

"Seraphina is such an odd first name though," remarked Evie. "What could follow that?"

His sister was a hard woman to please, but Willard silently agreed with her sentiments. Rick and Bev had explained to them that it was a combination of Bev's late mother and sister's names. He had wondered to himself why they hadn't just named her Sara Phoebe. It had been at the top of Bev's list for possible names for a girl. He suspected that Rick had perhaps opposed such a direct memorial to the deceased. So, Willard had not probed the matter furthered. This was a time of celebration.

He and Loretta had been tapped to be the little girl's godparents in addition to being her great uncle and aunt. They had accepted without hesitation. The position came with the added bonus of giving her a middle name.

Evie placed the girl gently back into the antique bassinet that had held so many Keatings before.

"How about Bianca?" Loretta recommended. "It's Italian for white or fair. It's their translation of Snow-White. I want her life is a fairytale after such a difficult start," she explained.

"Well, I think our princess is off to a good start with such a beautiful and intelligent godmother watching over her," said Willard giving his wife a wolfish grin.

"Always the flatterer." Loretta rolled her _r's_ with an Irish lilt. "There's really no need. You've already tricked me into marryin' you," she leaned over into the hooded bassinet to talk to her goddaughter directly, "Lesson number one, little one," she instructed the babe in her lectern voice. "Beware of men with words sweeter than honey."

"I _tricked_ you," Willard said in mock defense. "Woman, you _bewitched_ me."

"Oh, stop it you," Loretta said smiling.

"Yes, please," Evie muttered.

The newly appointed godmother ignored her sister-in-law and picked up her charge again and rocked her in her arms. "Seraphina," she said as she marveled at the tiny hand that grasped her finger. "From the Hebrew – the name of God's highest choir of angels."

"Very good professor," Willard complimented his learned wife, who was indeed a professor of mythology and literature. He held Loretta by the waist and kissed her.

"Get a room. You two," Rick jested. "You'll corrupt the children." He covered the eyes of his three-year old, Danny. The little boy tried to move his father's hands away to see what he was trying to hide.

"So, have you three managed to come up with a middle name?" asked Beverly following behind her energetic five-year-old into the elegant parlor room.

"Well, I've always been partial to the name Wilhelmina," suggested Willard.

"That's a _terrible_ name, Uncle Will," Rick grimaced. "Besides, we've already named our firstborn after you," he said referring to his eldest, christened Willard Robert Keating. Robert had been Roderick's father's name. Of course, Evelyn had protested that she much preferred her first grandson to be named after her late husband.

Rick had stuck his ground. His father had died when he was young boy. Willard had filled that void, becoming much more father than uncle to him. The man had been his hero since childhood and naming his firstborn after the man was his way of paying homage to his role model. He hoped that his own son would embody the qualities he so admired in his uncle.

Willard harrumphed in mock indignation at the rejection of naming the girl Wilhelmina after himself.

"What do you think about Bianca?" suggested Loretta again explaining the significance of the name.

"Sounds beautiful. She is my little princess, that's for sure," said Rick picking his daughter up from the bassinet.

Beverly had been unsure of Rick's feelings for the girl they had adopted and were now passing off as their own. It was deceitful, she knew, but somehow her maternal instincts overrode her moral principles. They usually discussed major decisions ad nauseum. She feared that he had only agreed out of his love for her. Would he be able to love a baby that was not of his own flesh and blood?

She thought of her own father, Anselm von Rothschild, an international financier. It had been painful growing up feeling unloved by her father and she had been without a doubt his biological offspring. They say girls grow up to marry their fathers. Bev prayed to the Goddess Freud had been wrong.

Rick was the complete opposite of her father. She was beyond relieved that he had taken to Seraphina right away. It helped that the baby didn't wake them up at all hours with incessant crying like the boys had. In fact, it worried Bev at times. The infant cried to be fed or held, but she was quickly consoled and quieted.

_Today has enough troubles without borrowing more_, Bev quoted the proverb to herself. What was important was that Rick adored and doted on their daughter. After the first few days, he had fallen in love with her and was apt to spoil the child.

"Seraphina Bianca Keating. That's a lot of syllables for such a little girl," said Willard.

"And Wilhelmina is so much shorter?" Evelyn said with pursed lips. She had hoped that the girl might have been her namesake. She guessed she'd have to live with the fact that Danny had been given the middle name Evan in an attempt to appease her, when he too was not christened Robert.

"My present!" cried out the five-year-old, Willard. He reached up in a vain attempt to take his sister away from Rick. The little boy realized that his father was a tall man and tugged persistently on his father's pant leg. "_My baby_!" he protested.

"He thinks she's a souvenir from London," Rick explained. "This is your sister, Will. Not a present," he tried to dissuade the toddler. But he knelt down, so the boy could see her. "Sera is _our_ baby," Rick stressed.

"No, _mine_," the boy asserted.

"I blame myself," said Beverly shaking her head. "Its how I introduced her to the boys. When we brought her home, I said, 'Look what mommy brought you.' So naturally, Will thought she was a gift of some sort. He just won't let go of the idea. He thinks we're sharing a toy with him."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

1) Chapter title, "What's in a name?" is a line from _Romeo and Juliet_, you know that movie Claire Danes and Leonardo DiCaprio were in.

2) I never knew writing could be so enjoyable and difficult at the same time. It's so much better than writing insipid essays or memos. The Lestranges will be appearing in the next chapter and yes Lady Alexandra they're not too happy with things right now.

**Thank you, Jessica, Alexandra and reveur idioteque, so much for your reviews!**


	11. Chapter 11 O Thou Foul Thief

**Chapter 11 – "O thou foul thief…"**

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"_**O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter," **_

William Shakespeare, _Othello, _Act 1, Scene 2

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**Saturday, September 2nd, 1996**

"You may wonder why I have called you all here tonight," said Voldemort as he began the meeting of his Death Eaters. It was rare that the Dark Lord gathered the entire assembly of his Death Eaters. "As you know I consider you all to be my _true _family," said Voldemort as he walked slowly round the circle. The moon was nearly three-quarters full. Leaves littered the clearing of the forest which had been carefully shielded from the view of outsiders. The Dark Lord's red eyes glinted in the dark night as he surveyed his followers dressed in black cloaks and silver masks.

"I am the head of this household and sometimes I must ask great sacrifices of you in service to our cause," he turned towards one of the masked people. "Avery, tell me what it is that we labor for?"

"The purification of Wizarding society, my Lord," he answered.

"Yes. A most worthy and noble objective," said Voldemort walking past Avery to question another, "And what happens to those that fail me in achieving our goals?"

"They are punished, Master," a woman's voice replied.

"Correct, Narcissa. Did you know that Dumbledore once refused me a position at Hogwarts? Do you think I would have made a good schoolmaster, Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord, the finest," the Potions Master responded.

"A good teacher knows how to punish those who fail to obey him and how to reward those who are deserving of his praise," said Voldemort sternly. He put back his terrible face and sniffed the brisk night air; his slit-like nostrils widening. "I still smell the stink of guilt on some of you.

"Many of you lost faith in me. _I_, who am your Lord and Master. Only a few remained truly loyalty to me," he continued. "The Lestranges were steadfast. Their loyalty to me was unwavering. Rather than renounce me, as some of you did, they were entombed in Azkaban for thirteen years. But they have suffered more than any of you yet know."

"Months before I was weakened, I helped the Lestranges to conceive a child. For what is a family without children? How can we purify the Wizarding World without more purebloods to purge out the bad blood? Who will practice the Old Ways as we do? When Bellatrix was sentenced to life imprisonment, she was with child. And they _stole _her infant daughter for her as soon as she was born. These conspirators deceived the Lestranges into believing that their infant was _stillborn!_"

"It is an outrage, Master!" cried out one of the Death Eaters.

"Yes, Lucius, it is that and more," replied Voldemort. "This heinous crime was not only committed against the Lestranges – but _against me_ – _against us all_! We will retrieve what was taken from us and we will have our retribution. An example must be made of these kidnappers – so no one will dare lay a hand on another pureblooded child of ours."

* * *

"Sturgis, Sturgis, Sturgis," Rodolphus chanted mockingly. "How I've missed our little chats. Speaking of which, I had the most interesting conversation with a colleague of yours, Duncan Galway. Can you guess what he told me? After he was sufficiently induced to do so, of course" said Rodolphus. 

He addressed a wizard with thick straw-colored hair. The man was chained to a chair that had been anchored to a stone floor, so it would tip over, which had been their mistake with Galway.

"I think Duncan must have said that you are an even uglier son of bitch than before we put you into Azkaban," said Podmore staring straight into Rodolphus' lake blue eyes. Sturgis knew his interrogator to be a vain man, who was no doubt sensitive about the loss of his once handsome feature.

Rodolphus pointed his wand at the restraints that held Podmore making the chains wound tighter over the Auror's body, so that every breath the man took caused him pain.

"That's very uncivilized of you to say Podmore," Rodolphus replied. "But what else can you expect from a coward who beats a wizard without a wand, weakened by starvation and dementors?" he asked bitterly.

"Hello Sturgis," Rabastan greeted the man whose brother he had killed. "You'll be seeing Bernie real soon. Tell the bastard I said hello."

Podmore growled and strained against the chains. He let loose a river a swear words till his throat was sore.

"Now that you've got that out of your system," said Rodolphus smoothly.. "Galway informed us that my daughter is alive."

"Hah! Then Galway must have been sloshed because there's about a snowball's chance in hell your brat's still breathing. But don't worry, I'll tell her that her mum and dad say hello."

Rodolphus clenched his jaw. "If you cooperate with us, you'll leave this world in a lot less pain. I've had thirteen years to think up a thousand ways to pay you back for insulting my wife and for your cowardice. At least when we went after the Longbottoms, we gave them the chance to defend themselves. We could've just as easily waited till they were all snug in their beds."

"So you're going to talk me to death," Podmore yawned. "Give me the rack or the iron maiden. This _is_ worse than _Crucio_."

"Tell us where you sent our daughter," Bellatrix cut in, "Or you'll be begging for Cruciatus."

"Why Mrs. Lestrange, the last time I saw you, you had your legs in the air. I guess you're quite the screamer in bed," said Podmore leeringly.

"Why you, insolent…" Bellatrix moved to strike him. Rodolphus got to him first and punched the man so hard a tooth came loose. "Where is our daughter, Podmore?"

"Gladly," answered Sturgis with a bloody and menacing grin. "You don't have to torture me to tell you where we sent your hell spawn… We gave her an all expenses paid vacation to an orphanage, a _Muggle _orphanage."

"Liar!" Bellatrix shouted her wand pointing deep into his throat. "Galway said she was being given to _decent_ people."

Podmore laughed again. Rodolphus had to restrain his wife to stop her from plunging her wand straight through the Auror's throat.

"Remember luv, information first; satisfaction later," he reminded his wife.

"Of course, I told him, we'd give her to decent folks," explained Podmore. "Duncan wouldn't have gone through with it otherwise. He didn't know that I picked out the worst stinkin' Muggle orphanage I could find. A shit-hole in the middle of nowhere. A real good home for a child of the damned."

"Let me takeover the questioning," a sharp voice said from behind. Snape emerged from the shadows. He had been observing the proceedings with the interest of a spider watching its prey squirm in its web.

"Why, hullo there professor," Podmore greeted him and tried to spit on the man.

"He wants us to give him a quick and easy end," Snape said to the Lestranges without turning around to face them. "Who was involved in this plot, Podmore?"

"Just me and Galway," Sturgis replied trying to shrug his shoulders, but was hindered from the effort by the chains that crisscrossed over his chest.

"We know for a fact that you had more accomplices. Merlin knows you're not clever enough to have planned something as elaborate as this on your own. This is your last chance to go the easy route. My associates are eager to use much cruder means."

"Bring it on then," said Sturgis fearlessly.

"Gryffindors," Snape said the word like an epithet. With a quick shout of, "_Legilimens!"_ Snape found himself plunged into the cesspool of pornography and alcoholism that made up the bulk of Podmore's mind.

The quality of wizards the Ministry employed nowadays was staggeringly pathetic. They had little to no resistance for attacks on what passed for their minds. The more the Auror tried to repress the memories involving the plot – this Pact of Four, as they called it – the faster those particular remembrances came to the forefront of his consciousness.

There was a memory of Podmore waking up in a puddle of his own vomit after he had drunken himself into a state of unconscious after learning about the murder of his brother, Bernard. Then Snape was nearly deafened by Bellatrix's screams during her difficult labor. The birth of a baby was enough to make any wizard pass out – all the mucus and fluids that came pouring out of the womb… but Snape was made of sterner stuff. He was a Potions Master after all. The profession required a lot of contact with the insides and outsides of creatures. He however did thank Merlin that he was a man and not a woman.

Snape watched as Podmore incapacitated the Midwife and her assistant. At least the Auror had waited till the women had placed the babe down before he stunned them both. Then he sensed Podmore's avarice as he pocketed a piece of parchment with something wet stuck to it. _A caul_, _how interesting_, Snape thought.

Podmore gave the infant to Galway. Then the two men were pummeling Rodolphus mercilessly after they had told the man his child was dead.

And then there in the corner of Sturgis' mind were three men in an office: Podmore, McCalister, and… Barty Crouch senior. Galway had been left out.

Snape compelled Sturgis' weaker mind to focus on the memory. The men were finalizing their plans.

"_Did you get in touch with Karakoff?"asked Crouch._

"_Yes, he suggested Odessa in the Ukraine," answered McCalister. He unrolled a map and pointed out the location of the orphanage. "A place called Zaporizhzha. It's crowded and understaffed. Poor and remote with no wizards or witches on staff or even in the nearby town. The government forbids adoptions by foreigners. There won't be any attempt to find the its natural parents," said McCalister. _

"_I don't know why we're even bothering with an orphanage. It's too much of a bloody risk," said Podmore bitterly._

"_I hope you're not suggesting that we kill a child," asked McCalister.  
_

"_Why not? We're going to tell them it's dead anyway. We'd just be making it the truth," retorted Podmore._

"_No," Crouch interrupted. A line had be drawn somewhere and it was going to be here. "Galway won't go for it and we need his cooperation. We'll just tell him we've found a nice foreign family to raise the child."_

With that Snape gladly left the mind of the despicable Auror. Sturgis groaned in pain. It was the worst headache the man had ever experience and he was used to waking up with hangovers on a daily basis.

* * *

Lucius arrived in Odessa and made his way to the local Wizarding magistrate's office. After being welcomed by the mayor's very attractive young secretary, Lucius was greeted by a stout man in a dark tan military uniform. 

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," he greeted him in thickly accented English. He noticed the finely tailored robes of his guest.

"Greetings, Mayor Wolanski," Lucius said shaking hands with the man and taking the proffered seat across from the man's desk.

"I haff heard that you are looking for somevone… a young _girl_?" the mayor asked lasciviously. He cocked a knowing eyebrow at his decadent aristocratic guest.

"Yes," Lucius practically hissed the word. The debauched presumption of the official disgusted him. "She is the _daughter_ of a close associate of mine," Lucius emphasized. He had to be careful not to offend Wolanski, from whom he needed help, but he wanted it known that his intentions were honorable. "The girl was left at the Zaporizhzha Home for Orphans close to fifteen years ago," explained Lucius. "My friend finds himself without any heirs and would like to reclaim her."

Wolanski's face darkened. "Ahh, I see," the man breathed deeply. "Dis is most unfortunate," he continued, "De orphanage burnt down over a decade ago."

"Are you sure?" Lucius asked.

"Yes, it vas a terrible tragedy. It vas a _Muggle_ orphanage," added the Mayor quickly trying to alleviate any culpability on his part. "It had to do with de gas pipes. Thare was a leak… And vell many of de comrades smoke… De explosion happened so quickly. Thare vas no time to save them. It vas far from town and even in the town thare are no wizards. Thare vere no survivors. If it is any consolation, dey believed that most of de children died of the gas in deir sleep, before the fire started. Thare is a memorial statue the townspeople put up over the site if your friend would like to visit."

Lucius was shaken by the news, but only looked at the Mayor stonily. "But there is a chance she might have been adopted before the fire."

"All de adoption records vere kept at the orphanage. Dey vere also incinerated," the official said. He began to wonder if the girl had been the bastard daughter of the man sitting across from him.

Lucius gritted his teeth and stood up. "It was nice meeting you Mr. Mayor." He placed a small pouch of fifty galleons onto the man's desk. "An anonymous donation for your time."

"Yes," replied Wolanski as he eagerly eyed the money. "I am alvays happy to help."

* * *

"It burnt down?" Rodolphus asked disbelievingly. 

"Yes, I'm sorry," said Lucius. "I visited the memorial… there was nothing left." The Muggle townspeople had erected a statue of a weeping angel where the building had once stood. All that remained was the scorched earth where nothing dared to grow.

"She could still be alive," said Bellatrix softly her gaunt face going pale. Narcissa sitting next to her put a comforting hand on her arm.

"They'll pay for this!" Rodolphus exclaimed. He stood up and knocked the coffee table over. The silver sterling tea tray with porcelain cups were sent crashing unto the hard stone floor.

"No, I won't believe it until I see a body," said Bellatrix firmly. "They told me she was dead before and I believed them. They tried to hand me this dead thing and said it was my baby. I won't be fooled again. There must be some spell, some incantation, something we can do to know for sure."

"She could have been adopted," said Rodolphus holding onto a thread of hope. "Merlin help me, I am going to find my daughter… even if… If she is dead at least we'll know. We won't be torturing ourselves wondering if she's being treated properly. And the Good Goddess have mercy on Podmore and McCallister if our daughter lies dead, because I won't. They'll envy the dead, when I'm through."

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**Author's Note: **Yes, I'm evil. A little bit of a cliff-hanger. Stay tuned. And REVIEW of course. :) 


	12. Chapter 12 Finding the Lost, Part 1

**Chapter 12 – Finding the Lost, Part 1  
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**Sunday, May 15th, 1982**

They gathered at sunrise at the woodland glade by the James River. Centuries old trees swayed their leafy heads in greeting to the invited guests of the Keatings. Shoes were lined up in rows a few feet away from the consecrated circle. The bare feet of the guests met with grass and soil fresh with morning dew. They seated themselves on the white wooden folding chairs arranged within the circle. It encompassed the altar table where the High Priestess Pythia and the High Priest Abaris stood ready to preside over the naming ceremony.

When every seat was filled and all everyone accounted for. The Priestess Pythia raised her hands and everyone rose to their feet. Her plain white robes were a sharp contrast to the Muggle Sunday-best dress-style of the assembled guests. American wizards had long ago abandoned the robes of the Old Country for the practicality of the New World. However, the austerity Priestess Pythia commanded did not require elaborate dress robes. She exuded a power not of coercion but of irresistible calm. Pythia had attained the highest ranking of the Fifth Degree. The fact that someone of her prominence was officiating over the Keating's naming ceremony spoke volumes about the prestige and respect the Communities of Circles had for the Keating family.

In a sonorous voice Pythia inaugurated the ritual with the Invocation of the Goddess:"Blessed Virgin, Mother, Crone, we honor Your earth that we stand upon. May we be ever mindful of the ones who no longer stand amongst us and the ones who will take our places. As we tread this earth, we know that we never walk alone. The elements of the Goddess surround us. In the Air, the Fire, Water, and the Earth, She is ever with us. May She Bless us with Her presence in our rites."

The Circle replied, "We are the old people. We are the new people. We are the sample people."

"So mote it be," said the Priestess ending the prayer. She lit a candle on the altar table shaded beneath the heavy blossoming cherry tree. "Today we gather together as a Circle of family and friends. We meet in this place that is not a place, at this time out of time, to welcome back one of our own. It is with great rejoicing that we greet this child, a kindred spirit, who has come to us from the Goddess." Pythia cast her gaze upon each guest in turn and finally rested her eyes on the babe in the arms of her mother.

"We also ask for the blessing of the Lord who is consort to the Goddess," said Priest Abaris stepping forward in front of the altar table to stand beside the Priestess. He too wore white robes. It matched the his snowy beard. "May He be welcomed here as the Horned One, the Grain God, and the Lord of the Harvest."

"We are one with the Lord," the circle recited in response. "We are one with the Lady."

"Come forth, Beverly Hannah von Rothschild Keating and Roderick Fitzgerald Keating. Who is this child that you bring into our midst?" the Priestess asked.

"She is our daughter," they replied. They rose from their seats to stand before the altar. Bev carried Sera garbed in the Keating's generations old white christening dress.

"What name have you given to her?" asked the Priest.

"We have given her the name Seraphina," replied Bev. "In remembrance of my mother and sister who are no longer with us." She felt Rick give her shoulder a gentle squeeze of support as she presented their child to the Priests.

"Are you ready Beverly Hannah von Rothschild Keating to be a mother to this infant?" asked Pythia.

"Yes, I am ready," she answered strongly.

"Are you prepared Roderick Fitzgerald Keating to be a father to this babe?"

"Yes, I am prepared," he confirmed.

"What is the hidden name you have chosen for her?" asked the Priestess.

Beverly stepped forward and handed her child to the Priestess.

"We have chosen the name Bianca given to her by her godparents," replied Bev.

The Priestess nodded and continued the ritual. "We ask the blessings of our Lord and Lady upon Seraphina, daughter of Beverly and Roderick Keating. May they nurture their child with patience, wisdom, and love. In this life there are many paths and each of us must be allowed to find our own way. We ask that the Lord and Lady to bless and protect this child on her journey through this life. When she is of age, may she choose her own path without neither doubt nor fear."

The Priest handed the High Priestess the a goblet of wine. The Priestess placed two fingers in the cup and she anointed the child's forehead with wine and said, "I anoint thee, Seraphina, with wine, in the name of the Lord of us all." The baby waved her little hands in the air at the sensation.

The High Priest handed the High Priestess the anointing oil from the altar table. The Priestess anointed the child's forehead in the sign of the pentagram as she said, "I anoint thee Seraphina, with oil and give thee the hidden name of Bianca."

Lastly, the Priest handed the Priestess the bottle containing salt water, and she anointed the child's forehead again, saying, "I anoint thee, Seraphina Bianca, with the water of life, in the name of the Threefold Goddess."

She handed the child back to her mother. She held out her wand towards the parents and said,

"I bid you both to put your hands upon my wand and hearken to our words. For the bringing of new life into this world and the linking of one so young to the ancient mysteries, is a serious matter. How will you nurture such a youngling?"

"In perfect love," answered Beverly.

"And perfect trust," acknowledged Rick.

A glowing strand of light came from the tip of the Priestess' wand and wrapped itself around the Keating's wrists melting into their vey skin. They released the wand at the woman's nod.

"But this is not a perfect world as we are imperfect. Who will aid you?" asked the Priest to the guests.

"I will," called out Loretta.

"As will I," said Willard.

As they walked towards the altar, the assembly closed the gap they left in the circle.

"Who are you that you would pledge yourselves to this child?" asked the Priestess.

"I am Loretta Shannon Delamere. I pledge myself as Godmother to this child," the auburn haired woman replied.

"You may take your place with her parents as their daughter's spiritual mother," instructed Pythia.

Loretta went to stand next to Bev and held her hand.

"I am Willard Mayer Delamere. I pledge myself as Godfather to this child," he said.

"You too, may take your place with her parents as their daughter's spiritual father," said the Priest Abaris.

Willard held hands with Rick completing the chain with Bev and his wife.

The parents and newly appointed godparents turned to face the guests and recited the verse together, "In the sight of the Lord and Lady, our family and friends, we pledge ourselves to the care of this child."

The Priestess handed the baby back to Beverly, who took the girl tenderly into her arms. She recalled how her son Will had cried like a wild thing through his naming and Danny had slept through his, but Sera just silently gazed up in wonderment at it all.

Pythia and Abaris placed their hands on the heads of the four adults before them. "Since, you have made this promise, we ask for the blessing of the Lord and Lady to grant you strength and wisdom to rise above every obstacle and challenge. Let all light shine brightly upon you and all darkness fall but gently. And remember that love endures all things from this life to the next. So mote it be."

They returned to take their places in the circle.

Goblets and small cups appeared. They floated in the air in front of each guest. Bottles of blessed red wine and pitchers of grape juice, for the children, began filling the drinks of the guests. When all had been served, the Priestess toasted the guests, "In honor of the Lady, from whom all Life flows, do I pour this toast, and drink this wine."

The guests raised their glasses to one another. Five-year old Matt managed to clink his glass of grape juice with three-year-old Danny's sippy cup without spilling.

"In honor of the Lord, from whence comes the strength of the seed, do I place this offering, and eat this cake," said Priest Malachi. He cut into the three-tiered cake on the altar table, while invisible hands placed the pieces onto small plates for the guests.

The naming ceremony had concluded and the sun shone brightly on the picturesque scene.

But as the High Priest said, the world is an imperfect place. They would need the blessing of the Lord and Lady more than they dared to know.

* * *

**Tuesday September 5th, 1996**

Bellatrix sipped at her wine as she looked out the diamond patterned window overlooking the foggy moorland. Her daughter would be fourteen. She tried to mentally picture a teenage girl with black hair. Or would it be brown like Rodolphus'? Would either of them even recognize the girl, if she passed them on the street? Her baby would almost be a woman by now. Would she even need a mother? Yes, she answered herself; a girl always needs her mother. Just as she wished her own mother was still living…

It was all futile thinking. She could be dead. She could have been lying in the ground for much of the time her parents had been rotting in prison. Since, Lucius had returned from Odessa, she had been plagued with terrible dreams. A baby crying piteously in the midst of an inferno. No matter how hard she tried, even when she ran into the heart of the fire, she could never get to the child. At least she had been able to sleep somewhat... Rodolpus was restless. She rested her head against the coolness of the window glass.

Familiar hands came up to her temples to rub away the tension.

"How's the wine luv?" asked Rodolphus as moved his hands down to massage her shoulders. She had already seen him coming from his reflection in the glass.

"Barely potable," she informed him wryly.

"Too dry?"

"Hmmm…" she murmured incoherently under his ministrations. She had missed his touch in Azkaban. The remembrance of the warmth of those strong thick fingers on her supple skin had been stolen away by the chill of the Dementors and the icy conditions of the prison.

"Have you found anything?" she asked.

"No," he said. "You?"

"There is a spell, but we would need something of hers. A hair, a few drops of blood, a toenail even, but if we could get those than we wouldn't need a _bloody_ locating spell would we?" She felt the blood rising up to her pale cheeks washing them in a crimson tide.

The Dark Lord's support had given the Lestranges access to every Dark Arts tome available to his circle of Death Eaters and their connections, which was a sizable portion of the volumes in existence of the Wizarding World.

"She'd be close to fifteen," said Rodolphus pensively. "Almost a woman," he unknowingly echoed his wife's thoughts.

"_CRACK!"_

Bellatrix had squeezed the glass of wine so hard that it had shattered in her hand slicing through the delicate skin of her long fingers.

"Bella!" he shouted. Shards of glass had nearly cut him. When she didn't react, he drew his wand and healed her wounds finding none on himself.

"Bella," he repeated worriedly. He grasped both her shoulders and turned her to face him.

"The time, Rodolphus," she said in a husked voice. "We were too strong for them to break, but they've stolen thirteen years from us. Thirteen years with each other, with our daughter – as a family."

"I know, luv," he held her close. She could only be this vulnerable with him. "We'll get her back." A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"You said we needed something of hers," he said.

"Yes. But we don't have anything," she reminded him with bitterness. "Nothing."

"But we do, Bella. We do have _something_! Or at least we will," he said enigmatically.

"What are you talking about?" Bella pulled away from him to look into her husband's dark brown eyes to find reborn hope shining forth.

"The caul!" he practically shouted into her face. "Remember? Snape said Podmore took the caul."

"The caul," she whispered to herself. Bella tried to recall what the slimy git had told them.

"Yes. You're right! The _caul_!" she cried out exultantly. "I knew there was a reason I married you," she said and covered his mouth with hers in a fervent kiss.

"I'll go see if our guest has woken up from his slumber," Rodolphus said heading for the basement.

"I'll get the tea," she replied merrily.


	13. Chapter 13 Finding the Lost, Part 2

**Chapter 13 – Finding the Lost, Part 2**

**

* * *

**

_**Desolate and lone**_

_**All night long on the lake**_

_**Where fog trails and mist creeps,**_

_**The whistle of a boat**_

_**Calls and cries unendingly,**_

_**Like some lost child**_

_**In tears and trouble**_

_**Hunting the harbor's breast**_

_**And the harbor's eyes.**_

Carl Sandburg, "Lost," _Chicago Poems_, 1916

**

* * *

**

**Thursday, May 19th, 1982**

"Let me guess. Term papers," deduced Willard as he stepped into the living room. His wife, Loretta was lounging on the Venetian chaise, red pen in hand, surrounded by small mountains of papers.

"Yes, I'm currently reading a brilliant essay entitled, _Emily Dickinson: Get a life_. And before I completely lose my mind, an owl arrived for you over an hour ago. The bird insists on delivering its letter to you directly. It's waiting for you in your study," she said pointing to the door on the opposite side of the room.

"The infernal bird wouldn't leave the letter and go because Merlin knows that Mrs. Delamere can't be trusted with her husband's mail. She might be a secret double-agent who has stayed married to him for the past thirty-three years just to steal his post."

Willard bent down to kiss her furrowed brow. "My dear, you should know better than to blame the messenger," he chided her gently. His kiss deepened and soon they were making out like teenagers.

"_HOOT! HOOOOOT!" _The owl's call reverberated through the room.

"What the devil!" muttered Willard into his wife's shoulder he had previously been nuzzling.

"I do believe your avian messenger is growing impatient. Hurry up and take your letter or we'll have to invite him to stay for supper. Anyway, I have to get these term papers marked tonight," she said pushing him away.

"Yes dear," he sighed as he disengaged himself from her lithe form and headed for his study.

A stern Hawk Owl perched on the lamp of his desk gave him a reproachful look.

"How do you do, Mr. Owl?" he asked in a charming manner.

The bird was not at all amused at having to be kept waiting for nearly two hours. It had journeyed a long ways and was eager to return to its familiar hunting grounds in England. It released the sealed envelope from its talons onto Delamere's desk and waited for the man to take it in hand before swiftly flying out into the dusky night.

Willard shut the window behind the bird. He paused to appreciate the streaks of purple and pink that marked the setting sun. He sat down at his desk and opened the envelope bearing the seal of the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom – crossed wands over a backdrop of the Union Jack.

A cream colored note card slipped out reading:

_CONFIDENTIAL_

_International Confederation of Wizardry_

_Clearance for Sigma Level Personnel_

_Passcode and Identity Confirmation Required for Willard Delamere, Esq._

A feeling of foreboding passed through Willard as though someone had just walked over his grave. He wrote the words, _"Nosce te ipsum"_ onto the back of the note card followed by his signature and a drop of blood. These were absorbed into the paper which transfigured itself into a sheet of folded parchment.

_To the Honorable Willard Delamere, Esq.,_

_This is to inform you that the prisoner, Bellatrix Black Lestrange has been remanded to Azkaban Prison to serve out her life sentence. In compliance with the International Code on the Rights of Witches and Wizards, Clause 152 and the agreement contracted between the involved parties, Mrs. Lestrange received full medical services at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for the term of her pregnancy._

_On Wednesday, May 1st, at three o'clock in the morning GMT time, Mrs. Lestrange gave birth to a stillborn female infant. Every effort was made to save both mother and child by the attending physician, Healer Eugene Holt, Midwife Edith Ingersoll and Apprentice Midwife Adelaide Stevenson. _

_After examining Mrs. Lestrange for any prevailing medical infirmities, she was given a clean bill of health and returned to Azkaban Prison on Thursday, May 2nd, 1982._

_Further inquiries into this matter may be addressed to myself._

_Sincerely,_

_Bartemius Crouch, Sr._

_Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

_Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom_

What a strange intersection of events, Willard thought to himself. Mrs. Lestrange had given birth to stillborn child on the same day his nephew's wife had given birth to a baby three months premature.

Crouch's letter was far too defensive for his taste. It listed three witnesses, but neglected to mention the names of Mrs. Lestrange's guards during her stay at St. Mungo's. It was also eighteen days after the fact. In Delamere's estimation, Crouch bent the laws for his own ends, but killing a baby was a line he hadn't thought the man capable of crossing. Willard resolved to personally investigate the matter rather than send an assistant. Mr. Delamere was a man who always saw things through to the very end.

* * *

**Friday, May 20th, 1982**

"Hello, Miss Mitchell," Delamere greeted the brunette receptionist after reading the name plaque on her desk. "I'm looking for Healer Holt."

"I'm sorry sir," she looked up at him curiously. "Healer Holt has taken an indefinite leave of absence."

"Is there any contact information?" he queried.

"No. He didn't even bother to clean out his office," said the woman snappishly. A tone of annoyance crept into her voice as she recalled having to pack up after the hoity-toity Healer.

"Then is Midwife Ingersoll available?" Delamere asked.

"I'm Midwife Ingersoll," said matronly witch from behind him. Her astute eye appraised the handsome wizard.

"Hello ma'am," he said. "Could I speak with you a moment in private?"

She raised an eyebrow at his American accent, but nevertheless led him to the empty nurse's lounge. They were all in some pointless staff meeting.

Willard placed a muffling charm around them so anything they said would sound like nonsensical gibberish to any ease droppers.

"What is this all about?" she demanded when he was through.

"Excuse me, but it's important that we are not overhead," he explained. "My name is Willard Delamere," he took out his identification badge from the inner pocket of his robe. "I am a legal representative from the ICW."

"Oh, I see," she said. Even in the dim lighting of the room she could make out the crossed wand and gavel emblem known throughout the Wizarding World as the crest of the International Confederation of Wizards.

"On May 1st, Beltane a few weeks ago," he began you delivered a stillborn child to a…"

"Oh, Mrs. Keating," interjected Ingersoll. She connected his American accent with the young devastated couple.

"No. You must be mistaken it was a Mrs. Les…"

"No, I am _not_ mistaken, sir," she said indignantly. For some reason after Beltane, she had become absentminded. She forgot simple things like twisting a bottle of formula shut… or wrapping the girls in pink blankets and boys in blue… If he was really here to test her for senility, then he had another thing coming.

"I'll have you know that I stood as the southern corner at the burial rite for the poor little lass. Mrs. Lester had twins last Thursday. The Keating girl was the only stillborn we've had at St. Mungo's for the past five months if I'm not mistaken. Our infant mortality rate is less than two point three percent. I remember that quite clearly, _sir_."

_Take that you gossip mongering ladder climber_, Edith Ingersoll directed the thought towards her apprentice… _former_ apprentice if she had a thing or two to say about it.

"Burial?"

"Yes, she's buried out there," she said more harshly than she had intended to as she gestured out the window to the cemetery grounds next to the chapel.

"You're sure. You're sure that it was Mrs. Keating's baby that was stillborn. What happened to Mrs. Lestrange's child?" he asked.

Ingersoll's expression became emotionless. "All questions regarding Mrs. Lestrange are to be directed to Mr. Crouch at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she said mechanically.

"_Legilimens!"_

Memories of recent births sprang up. The sound of an infant's first cries. The Lester twins coming out of the mother within seconds of each other. The affection, patience and professionalism that were the hallmark of Ingersoll's career were present. Then he saw Bev as he had never seen his nephew's wife nor had ever cared to. She was lying unconscious and bloody on an operating table.

"_The placenta's rupturing," said a blonde woman in Healer's robes. She waved a wand with a glowing quartz crystal turning shades of scarlet. _

Delamere let the rest of the memory pass away. But then there was a hole in her mind. It was causing the Midwife's memory lapses. It was symptomatic of the Obliviation coupled with another powerful spell… Her automatic reply indicated the use of Imperious.

He released Ingersoll gently from the compulsion of his Legilimency.

"What happened?" she asked.

Delamere realized that she had already forgotten. It was a leftover instruction from the Unforgivable that had been used on her, Delamere surmised.

"You're overworked," he told her. "You'd best take the rest of the day off. Thank you for … your directions to the Spell Damage Ward."

"Overworked… take the day off… directions," she blinkingly repeated like a mantra.

Delamere informed the receptionist that Ingersoll was not feeling well and asked Mitchell to floo for a carriage to take the woman home. He left more than enough sickles to cover the charge in his haste.

Delamere entered the ominous black gated cemetery with the hope that he would not find what he expected to find.

The odds of two stillborn baby girls born within a day of each other in the same hospital were slim to none, which meant…

If Rick and Bev's child had been stillborn…

The answer to his unfinished thoughts was engraved in stone:

Here lies

SARA PHOEBE KEATING

Beloved Daughter

Born and Died on April 30th, 1982

His great niece was dead. The dots were connecting to form a picture he didn't want to see. This was why Bev hadn't named the baby Sara Phoebe as she had intended to. It was because she had already given it to her daughter. Delamere knelt down on the plot in contemplation.

Unless Rick and Bev had gotten the little girl from some other source… most probably their child… the child he had stood Godfather to, was in all likelihood the daughter of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange.

His nephew was raising the daughter of Death Eaters. They had somehow been persuaded to adopt the girl. They were probably deceived about her true origins. Otherwise, it would be kidnapping and neither Rick nor Bev was capable of abducting another parent's child.

But they were passing her off as their own… Why? Was it the grief? The unknowable anguish they must have gone through at the loss of their infant daughter. It explained Beverly's reluctance to talk about the birth with even Loretta. It also explained Rick's evasive answers about what had happened that Beltane's eve.

The reality of the situation was dawning on Delamere like a ton of bricks. _Of course!_ He thought. Their child had been born three months premature, but the little girl they had presented them with had appeared healthy, as though she had been the product of a full term pregnancy. And the whole family had been so overjoyed that the crisis was averted they had bought the happy ending without question.

Delamere gripped the granite tombstone of his great niece with one hand as he rose to stand. He had pledged himself a Godfather to another little girl who was in all probability the Lestrange baby. His nephew and his wife were raising the progeny of Death Eaters.

Damn it! He was going to get to the bottom of this…

"Where to gov'nor?" asked the Knight Bus conductor.

"Ministry of Magic," he said taking a seat.

* * *

**

* * *

**

**Thursday, September 7th, 1996**

"Lucius," said Snape looking up from the pile of third-year essays on the eight uses of fluxweed. "What brings you here? Nostalgia?"

"Business," replied Malfoy in an uncharacteristically direct manner which could only mean that it was business involving the Dark Lord or something equally dire like Draco's mediocre grades in every subject besides Potions. "During your time rummaging around in Podmore's head, you said he took the caul the baby had been born with."

"Yes," confirmed Snape placing his marking quill into the near empty red inkwell. "The man intended on selling it on the black market and retiring on the sum."

"Yes, the Ministry pays so very poorly," said Lucius with a knowing smirk. "We have of course reacquired it after a _little_ persuasion."

"Why risk it?" asked Snape. They had to have used _Imperio_ to get Podmore to open his vault in Gringotts. "It's not as though you need the money and it would have been a foolish thing to fetch it as a keepsake."

"None of the above, Severus," explained Lucius. "You should know us better than that. My brother and sister-in-law have recently discovered the most interesting incantation that will help them locate their child. It requires the creation of a very elaborate potion. The caul is just one of the ingredients."

Lucius removed a small package and a pouch of coins from the front pocket of his black wool cloak.

"If you should have any problem in securing any of the ingredients you need, floo me at once," said Lucius imperiously. "This is after all a priority of our mutual Master and it involves my family," he said turning to leave. "Oh and by the way," Malfoy added before going, "the Dark Lord wants the potion completed within a fortnight's time."

After Lucius had left, Professor Snape made his way from the dungeons to the Headmaster's office to see his confessor, Professor Dumbledore.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

1) "Nosce te ipsum" is Latin for "Know thyself," quoted from Cicero.

2) These chapters aren't the best that they could be but I wanted to get through them to get to the core of the story which is coming up soon. If there are glaring inconsistencies or horrible abuses of the English language, please tell me and I'll repost.

Thanks to Jessica, Lady Alexandra, reveur idioteque, Martiele, 4thBlackSister and Rose Richelieu for your reviews. There would be no story without your reviews. Well there'd be like one lonely incomplete chapter…


	14. Chapter 14 Finding the Lost, Part 3

**Chapter 14 – Finding the Lost, Part 3**

_**seeker of truth**_

_**follow no path**_

_**all paths lead where**_

_**truth is here **_

**- e.e. cummings**

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* * *

**

**Friday, May 20th, 1982**

The jolting ride on the Knight Bus gave Delamere a chance to reconsider his theory that Rick and Bev had unknowingly adopted the Lestrange baby. There might yet be some unknown variable in play. The three most likely possibilities were that the Lestrange kid: 1) was stillborn; 2) abducted; or 3) murdered.

The Knight Bus screeched to a halt on a street of dilapidated office buildings.

"Ministry of Magic!" called out the conductor dressed in a purple uniform.

Delamere tipped his hat to the man as he stepped off the bus into the dirty alleyway. He could have Apparated into Ministry Headquarters, but it was a gesture of polite diplomacy to come through the front door announced, so to speak. He walked over to the familiar red telephone booth in the deserted street.

Delamere pinned his gold star-shaped badge to the front of his cloak and picked up the receiver. He dialed the numbers 2-4-4-2.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business," said a female voice from the telephone box.

"I am Willard Delamere from the Legal Taskforce of the International Confederation of Wizard. I am here to conduct an official inquiry," he stated.

There was a moment of silence.

"Please specify the nature of your business," the woman requested.

Willard raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He had been a former seat holder on the Confederation's voting council. His colleagues had persuaded him to stay on as legal liaison in case the Confederation should need him again. He wasn't one to lord his position on other men, but for Merlin's sake he was foreign dignitary! The last time he had been to the Ministry for a visit – he had barely finished saying the word, 'International' when the booth had started sinking into the ground, but now, now he was being stonewalled, by that cool feminine disembodied voice.

"I have already stated my business as much as I am legally obligated to." Willard replied sharply.

"Entrance denied on lack of specification as to the nature of your business," said the operator dispassionately. "The Ministry wishes you a nice day." The door to the booth swung open letting in a fresh spring breeze.

"Is that so?" Delamere intoned. "Then I'll be on my way to Zurich to inform headquarters that a government agent of a nation-state's magical ministry is hindering an official investigation and is heretofore in violation of Title twenty-five, subsection 3A of the International Wizard-" Before Willard could finish saying 'Wizarding Code' the door swung closed and the booth sank down into the earth at lightening speed.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day, Mr. Delamere," said the woman's voice now laced with false sentiment.

The door of the telephone booth opened and Delamere stepped out into the ostentatious lobby of the Ministry. He stalked past the ridiculous fountain with its golden statues of a centaur, goblin and elf looking up at a wizard and witch in worshipful adoration. Ministry employees stepped out of his path with wary glances at the conspicuous badge still pinned to his cloaked. Delamere did not believe in using such symbols of authority lightly knowing how it intimidated others. However, it was obvious though that the red carpet treatment he was usually met with had been rolled up. More than ever Delamere felt his suspicions about Crouch were on the mark. Who else would have reason to blacklist his name?

Once he was on the elevator, Willard pressed the number for Level Five, the Hall of Records. He walked down the white marble corridor to the reception desk where he was greeted by a pimply faced clerk.

"H-hello, sir," the young man said anxiously. "Gilbert Sullivan – How may I help you?"

"Hello Mr. Sullivan. I'm Willard Delamere from the ICW," he answered brusquely. "Listen young man I want to see all the birth certificates of children born at St. Mungo's from the dates April thirtieth to May second of this year and also the death records of any infants between those dates. I want the medical records of Rodolphus, Rabastan and Bellatrix Lestrange. And I don't want anyone to know what records I've just asked you for. Do you understand, Mr. Sullivan?"

"Y-yes, sir." the young man gulped and turned round so quickly he nearly stumbled over his own feet. He returned in ten minutes with files stacked three feet high levitating slightly off the ground and landed them lightly by Delamere's feet.

"Mr. Sullivan, are those all the records you have?" Delamere questioned.

"It is sir," Gilbert replied. "But I'll check again."

"Please do so," Willard suggested forcefully. "Now where might I peruse these in private?"

Sullivan led him to a research room usually reserved for Aurors.

"Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. Bring me any more records you find."

* * *

** Thursday, September 21st, 1996 **

"Thank you for the potion, Severus," said a grateful Rodolphus Lestrange.

"All in the service of the Dark Lord and our cause," replied Severus.

Severus Snape hadn't changed much in the last thirteen years, since Rodolphus had seen him. The man was still the same greasy haired odd-ball that had entered Hogwarts while he had been a fifth-year prefect along with Bellatrix. Those were the golden days of youth, when the future Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange had ruled as king and queen over the House of Slytherin.

And now they would add a princess to their household.

_Household, _Rodolphus thought bitterly. He and his wife were fugitives in hiding. They were sheltered in an Unplottable cottage his father had kept one of his mistresses. But one day, soon, the Dark Lord would ascend to head the Ministry of Magic and bring a renewal of glory and purity to the Wizarding World.

"How were you able to acquire a Sabaen bowl?" asked Severus.

"Muggle museum," answered Rabastan with a smirk. "It was out on bloody display."

The bowl in question was made from the blackened skull of a Demiguise, an ape-like beast from the Far East. Some ancient sorcerer had inscribed a powerful charm into the remains of the beast's skull. The inscribed text was a mixture of the ancient languages and runes. The symbols began in the center of the bowl and circled clockwise from the inner to outer sides of the vessel.

"We're ready to begin," Narcissa said solemnly. "Take your places."

Bellatrix placed the sacred bowl in the center of the ceremonial stone altar table. She smoothed out her white priestess robes. The light of the full moon reflected off the clear water-like liquid.

The ritual required the presence of seven in total, the perfect magical number. The moon was at its zenith in the night sky. The others formed a circle around her. It was time to begin.

Bellatrix raised her arms and recited the adapted incantation, _"Nos invo spiritu al trecerii."_

"We call on the spirits of the interregnum."

"_Exaudi nobis_," the six robed Death Eaters chorused.

"Hear us.

"_Nos implore Dea, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte!"_

"We call on you, Lady, do not ignore this supplication!"

"_Exaudi nobis_," chanted the circle again.

"_Dea, nos evovo super vestram. Exaudi nostrum causam. Encontra vos es matris a terrarum, ita sum mater a pavula." _

"Goddess, we call upon your spirit. Heed our plea. As you are mother of the earth, so I am mother to a child."

"_Ex vestri venit totus partum," _the Death Eaters spoke as one.

"From You came all creation."

"_Ex meus venit una filia,"_ responded Bellatrix.

"From me came a daughter."

"_Meus filia quisnam est viscus de meus viscus quod sanguis de meus sanguis est perdita adme," _she spoke the words in an impassioned voice.

"My daughter who is flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood is lost to me."

"_Teneos non utrum est exisisto victus vel mortuus," _the chorus said.

"We know not whether she be living or dead."

"_Eram vispilio meus sola parvula,"_ Bellatrix said with bitterness.

"They stole my only child."

"_Ut unus matris ut alius, quaeso intercido."_

"As one mother to another, I ask for intercession."

"_Tribuo vos vitualamen de meus viscus quod sanguis," _"I give you an offering of my flesh and blood." Bellatrix used the ceremonial athame, a double-bladed black knife, and unflinchingly cut a sliver of flesh from her the side of her left arm in two quick slashes avoiding the major veins and arteries. It plopped into the bowl with a skinning sound. The additional ingredient to the potion Snape had labored over for a fortnight hissed and bubbled.

"_Per illa veneratia Dea, revert out nos quis eram perdita."_

"With these honored Lady, return to us what was lost."

"_Asa sa fie,"_ the circle of black robed Death Eaters chorused.

"So it shall be."

The ritual was complete. Now came the test of their efforts. Rodolphus came quickly to his wife's side and healed her wound.

Snape came over to observe the effects of Bellatrix's additional ingredients. The boiling had ceased and the clear liquid had turned murky and opaque.

"Move aside, please," said Bellatrix impatiently.

Severus stepped off to the side to observe as Bellatrix pulled out a silver chain with a milky-white quartz crystal. She dipped the pointed end of the quartz into the mixture. The crystal seemed to absorb the potion and its color until it was too was blood-red.

Rabastan transfigured a table from some tree branches lying on the ground. He unfurled a map of the world and weighted it down with some nearby stones.

Bellatrix took the crystal from its silver chain. She held it in the palm of her pale hand and closed her fingers around it, "_Ostendo sum locus qua meus filia habito _Reveal to me the place where my daughter dwells." she ordered it and let go. The crystal fell a few inches over the map and righted itself so that it stood vertical over the map like a quill over parchment. It hovered over the map close to the British Isles where Bella had released it.

The crystal moved slowly from the United Kingdom, but instead of turning east towards Odessa, it went westward over the Atlantic and paused.

"Those bastards! They drowned her in the ocean!" shouted Rabastan.

"No, you imbecile," said Severus. "Unfurl the rest of the map." The left side of the map had still been curled up, since Rabastan had expected his niece to be somewhere in the Eastern hemisphere.

"Sorry about that," Rabastan muttered apologetically trying to avoid the castigating glare of his older brother and sister-in-law.

The crystal continued its journey over the blue sea to the eastern seaboard of the United States and stopped hovering over an island city.

Rodolphus squinted to make out the name of the place, "Man-hat-tan," he said slowly aloud. _What a strange name for a place. His daughter was in the former colonies. His daughter, an American._

"Well, she may have an atrocious accent but at least you won't have to learn Russian," Lucius remarked patting his brother-in-law in the shoulder.

"Congratulations, sister." Narcissa embraced Bellatrix.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

1) I gave up on becoming a Latin scholar after junior high, so uh… yeah… this is just Latinish _gobbledygook_ (real word by the way... yeah, I know - weird but its in the dictionary ... what do you mean you don't believe me?) So, I do not meant to offend the sensibilities of any ancient Romans or Latin scholars.

2) The ceremony described in this chapter was influenced by actual Wiccan rituals. It is not meant to offend any practicing Wiccans or neopaganists. So please don't curse, hex or jinx me. I have a presentation to give, papers to write and exams to take… wait maybe you should just do me in, quick and painless, before my professors get the chance.

3) This wasn't the most exciting chapter. I'm trying to move the plot along at a reasonable pace without jumping too far and falling down. Get ready for some twists, turns and emotional turmoil. In the next chapter, we will meet the Lestrange baby or was that the next next chapter? Keep reading and reviewing to find out.

Thanks to Jessica for the continued support every chapter, Lady Alexandra for cheering the story on, 4thBlackSister for the awesome critique and picking up on the symbolism, and Rose Richelieu, Maritele, and reveur idioteque for your encouraging reviews!


	15. Chapter 15 Finding the Lost, Part 4

**Chapter 15 – Finding the Lost, Part 4**

**

* * *

**

**_"Truth like the sun, submits to be obscured; but like the sun, only for a time._"** - Christian Nestell Bovee

**

* * *

Sunday, May 22nd, 1982**

After another day of research and another poor night's sleep at the Leaky Cauldron, Willard flooed over to New York. It was a bright Sunday morning, a little past nine Eastern Time, when he arrived in Greenwich Village.

The Keatings lived in one of the stately red brick townhouses built to accommodate the rising bourgeoisie merchants and tradesmen of the nineteenth century. It had been part of Beverly's inheritance from her late mother. Willard resolutely rang the doorbell and took in a deep breathe of the springtime air.

"I got it Rick," Bev called out hurriedly as she ran down the stairs to get the door. She saw a familiar face distorted slightly through the stained glass window. "Willard! What a surprise!" She gave him a warm hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Good morning, darlin'. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I'm was in town for some business and thought I'd drop by for a visit," he explained.

"_Intruding?_ Don't be silly. You're always welcome. Come on inside. I hope you're hungry because Rick made enough waffles to feed a family of ten instead of five, so you'll have to help us finish them off."

Willard followed Bev into the dining room. It was bathed in the morning's sunlight that poured in from the generous windows and doors that opened up into the backyard. The garden was in full bloom with bluish-purple hydrangeas, daffodils, daisies and wildflowers. The more exotic species of orchids had been transplanted from across the globe. The air smelled of batter wafting from the adjoining kitchen.

"Look what showed up on our doorstep," Bev announced.

"Uncle Will! What are you doing here?" Rick asked with a wide grin. He would have embraced the old man, but his arms were full at the moment. He was feeding his infant daughter a bottle of formula. "Loretta told me you were abroad on some business."

Before Willard could reply, he was thankfully interrupted by another shout of, "Uncle Will!" from his five-year-old namesake. Little Will dressed in pajamas featuring the Yankee Quidditch team attached himself to the man's leg.

"Uncie Bill," Danny greeted him also and promptly took his seat at the table hungry for blueberry waffles, while his older brother continued to cling to their relative.

"I'm happy to see you too," Willard said picking up Little Will, who wasn't so 'little' anymore. "You're getting heavy there."

"Yeah, I'm a big boy," Little Will agreed with a nod. "I is going to the muzeeum today."

"Oh, really," Willard said. "That sounds exciting."

"Eat your breakfast little man," Rick said. Uncle Willard appeared a bit worn around the edges. Rick returned Sera to her bassinet. He and Bev were concerned about her weight. The Healer had recommended special formula for her, which seemed to do the trick.

Willard put Little Will down. The brown-haired boy quickly took his seat and tapped the seat next to him, "Sit here, uncle."

"Why thank you," Willard said resting himself on the proffered chair.

Little Will content that he was an excellent host, concentrated on his plate of waffles, whilst the grownups continued to chat.

Beverly poured Willard some hazelnut coffee while Rick fixed him a plate of blueberry waffles topped with maple syrup. It occurred Willard not for the first time that the Keatings had established a household that would fool any Muggle at first glance. Bev and Rick conscientiously limited the amount of Magic they used in front of their children. Young American wizards and witches had to be socialized into doing things the Muggle way before learning spells and charms. However, it was easy for young wizards to slip up on occasion, but it was easily explained to the questioning Muggle that the children were pretending. After all Muggle children's stories were chock full of fantastical creatures and beings. So the odd mention of a gnome or billywig was dismissed as the products of an overactive imagination or simple mispronunciation. Even the occasional instance of wandless magic by young mages was quickly dismissed. Muggles for the most part tended to doubt themselves rather than the principles of their idea of reality.

'Never underestimate the power of denial,' Willard's father had taught him. Clarence Tiberius Delamere had also been an officer of the court. It was said law ran in the Delamere family like water in the Mississippi River. The senior Delamere had in fact been a judge during the trying times of the Civil War. But the old man hated such formality. People calling him Honorable, sycophants trying to curry favor and all the bowing and scraping plagued him. 'My ass is for sitting, not kissing,' he'd gripe. _Merlin, how I miss him_, Willard thought.

"Uncle Will," said the little boy next to him. "Eat," he ordered pointing a fork at Willard's untouched plate. "Is good," he assured him.

"I'm sure it is," said Willard before tucking in. "I think you should give up your law practice and open a restaurant," he said complimenting his nephew's cooking.

"I'm sure Rick's clients would complain," Bev said helping Little Will tuck a napkin underneath his chin.

"So, the Keatings are going out to the museum?" Willard inquired thoughtfully.

"Not all of us. I'm taking the boys. And Bev's staying in with the baby," Rick replied as he cut Danny's waffles into smaller pieces.

"Daddy says they has dragon bones!" shouted little Will enthusiastically. He roared and flapped his arms to imitate the flying beasts and chomped down vigorously on his breakfast.

Danny banged his plastic fork against his plate to share in the excitement. "Dragoons," he said with a mouthful of half-chewed waffle.

"As you can see, they're very excited," Bev laughed. "Sweetie, don't make a mess," she said to Will, who nodded his head as his mouth was full of waffle.

"Eat with your fork, Danny not with your hands," Rick instructed as well.

"Okays," his youngest replied. Danny thought grown-ups were weird. He attempted to spear a piece of waffle on to the blunt prongs of his plastic fork. It took a great deal of effort and coordination on his part, when he could have adeptly picked up the waffle with his hands, but not listening to either daddy or mommy was never a very good idea. Staring at the corner of a wall for fifteen minutes was an eternity for a hyper toddler.

"Are you sure it's a good idea sending the boys out with Rick?" Willard directed his query to Bev.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" asked Rick indignantly.

"I seem to recall someone taking his firstborn out for a walk around Washington Square Park and winding up with a dog instead." Delamere said wistfully. "Wasn't it a golden retriever you were left holdin'?"

Rick fumed. "That was years ago and… and it was that stupid toddler leash," he grumbled. He was resentful of the incident being brought up. "It was the same color as the dog leash. I hooked Will onto the fence to tie my shoe lace just for a second. Then a Muggle put his very similar leash on the fence. I just grabbed the wrong leash because it was the first one I saw," he explained becoming uncharacteristically flummoxed. "The Muggle only had Will for a minute if even that." Rick's was shame-faced as he remembered walking away with a dog instead of his son. The Muggle had realized what had happened and cried out, 'Anyone lose a kid?'

And of course at that exact moment, Bev came jogging by just in time to see her husband return the dog in exchange for his firstborn.

Bev suppressed her laughter. She kissed Rick on the head. "It's alright honey," she placated him. "You're a very good father. And it was a Labrador, by the way," she said pointedly to her uncle-in-law.

"My mistake," Willard chuckled into his coffee mug as he took a swig. "Err… Let me suggest that you both take the boys to the museum and I will keep an eye on my goddaughter. Loretta's told me that you two haven't been out of the house together since you brought the baby home."

"No, we couldn't impose on you like that," protested Bev.

"Nonsense," Willard insisted. "It'll give me a chance to get to know the little one better."

"_Well_, if you're sure it's not too much trouble. I think we should take the offer, Bev." Rick said as he eyed his boys who were concentrated on gobbling up the stacks of waffles. All those carbohydrates would be converted into a lot of energy. And after 'the incident' he and Bev had agreed to give up the toddler leashes. However, it sometimes took more than the two hands Rick possessed to keep tabs on his rambunctious sons, especially with the limitations on using magic in such a public space.

"No," Bev said. "Sera's only three weeks old. I just couldn't leave her."

She put a hand on her abdomen unconsciously for a second. The small gesture did not escape Rick's attention. The loss of Sara Phoebe was always with them.

"Come on, Bev," Rick tried to persuade her. "Uncle Will can manage. He helped take care of Danny when he had cholic, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Bev grimaced at the sleepless nights and most of all the helplessness of watching her baby suffer. She ran a hand through the boy's sandy-blonde hair that was a shade darker than Rick's.

"It is nice outside," Bev admitted as she glanced out the window at the bright morning. It had been a long time since she'd gone jogging in the park. And Willard had watched over the boys countless times in their infancy. Of course, then he had usually been accompanied by Loretta, but the offer to baby-sit was too tempting to pass up and Bev consented.

As they finished breakfast, Rick and Bev let Willard know where the bottles and formulas were kept and the child's feeding schedule and the all important emergency numbers and floo contacts affixed to the refrigerator door.

Within the hour, Willard Delamere was left alone with his goddaughter. His ploy had worked better than he had expected. At most, he had figured on managing to get five or at most ten minutes alone with the baby and now he had an entire afternoon.

Willard picked the girl up out of the bassinet.

"Hello, darlin'," Delamere said as he gathered her up into his arms.

She stared up at him in interest as he carried her upstairs to the nursery. He rocked her gently till she was just almost asleep and put her down in the crib. He pulled up the sleeve of her shirt.

"Merlin forgive me for what I'm about to do," he whispered as he pointed his wand at the exposed portion of the girl's upper arm and cast, _Sectum exsangui minimus. _A small cut opened on the girl's pale white flesh. It was the equivalent of a paper cut, but nonetheless the child felt it and began crying to wake the dead. Willard quickly gathered the droplets of blood into a glass vial. He healed the cut and swabbed off the excess blood with a cotton square and placed it in the plastic bag along with the vial. The girl continued crying her little heart out. He picked her up and she wailed even more.

"I don't blame you, sweetheart," he told her. "I'd find it hard to trust me too. Just know… know that it was something that had to be done. If there'd been another way..." He sighed. He was going to hell for this.

He patted her back trying to comfort her. "I'd sing to you, but that would probably make you cry more. Now your godmother Loretta has got a nice set of pipes. She'll sing you lullabies that'll send you off to Dreamland in the blink of an eye and in a couple of different languages too. And is she knew what I'd just done to you… well I'd be taken up permanent residence at Leaky Cauldron. That is if she hasn't killed me in my sleep," he mused grimly.

Sera began to quiet down exhausted from crying. Her face was flushed from crying and her tiny hands were clenched.

"You know, whoever your parents turn out to be… I'll still be your godfather, sweetheart. Don't know if that's any comfort to you right now," he said softly as he sat down in the rocking chair beside a small bookcase. "Let's see what you have here. 'The Kneazle in the Hat', 'Mother Griffin.' Ah…. How's about this, 'Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves,' it's a classic."

The baby stared at him blankly. His face was strange to her and in her unformed mind, she knew he was behind the sharp pain she had felt moments before.

"I will take your silence as tacit agreement, little lady," he said with a wink. He held her in the crook of his arm as he began to read the familiar fairy-tale aloud, 'Once upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and the frame of the window was made of black ebony. And whilst she was sewing and looking out of the window at the snow, she pricked her finger with the needle, and three drops of blood fell upon the snow…'"

Delamere felt a stab of guilt and closed the book. "Err… perhaps we ought to give the 'Mother Griffin,' another chance."

Seraphina fell asleep just as the Erumpent jumped over the moon. Delamere returned the sleeping infant to her crib and watched her little chest rise and fall with each breathe as he contemplated his next move.

Three hours later, two weary adults returned with two hyperactive boys. Will and Danny were eager to share their exploits with their uncle.

"Dragoons is big," Danny said. His hazel eyes were filled with awe. He spread his arms as wide as he could.

"They can shoot fire from their mouths." Will said huffing out warm breathe that reeked of pizza.

Rick plopped down on the sofa. "Thanks so much, Uncle Will. I don't think I would have made it out alive without Bev."

"You're a real godsend, Willard," Bev agreed resting her head on her husband's shoulder as the boys continued to inform their great uncle of their trip.

* * *

**Monday, May 22nd, 1982**

_Hartford University, School of Magical Law_

"Here's the report you wanted, sir." A dark-skinned young man held out a sealed envelope bearing the crest of the science labs out to his mentor.

"Thank you, Mr. Bailey. You can put it on in my in-box," Delamere replied nonchalantly. "That'll be all for now. You can have the rest of the day off."

"Are you sure, sir?" Bailey asked. "I could to stick around in case you needed anything," he said eyeing the towers of parchment piled in stacks across Delamere's desk.

"I'll send Hermes to fetch you if you're needed. Now, I'm giving you a direct order. You are to leave this office within the next ten minutes and take your wife out on the town," Delamere said with mock seriousness.

"Yes, professor," Bailey said reluctantly. He was desperate to know what Delamere was working on. He was the envy of the other law clerks and wanted to prove his worth in the department.

"Close the door on your way out, if you please," Delamere requested.

Once the door was shut, Delamere opened the manila envelope. It contained the results of the blood test. One of the few leads he had gotten out of his two days of research at St. Mungo's, the British Ministry and New York's City Hall were the blood types of the Lestranges and the Keatings.

Rick was A positive and Bev was O positive. Bellatrix was B negative and Rodolphus was O negative. This made things much easier for Willard. According to basic biology, any progeny of Bev and Rick would have either A or O type blood. While the progeny of Bellatrix and Rodolphus would result in a child with either B or O type blood, but with negative RH factors.

Seraphina's blood type should have been noted on her birth certificate. But another of Delamere's discoveries was that neither the Hall of Records in the U.K. nor the one in the U.S. had any record of her birth. Legally, Seraphina didn't exist. That was something he was going to rectify very soon.

Delamere scanned the report. The result ruled out every possibility that she was the daughter of Rick and Bev.

The door to his office swung open.

"_Incarcerous!" _Bailey shouted.

Ropes wound their way around Willard binding him to his desk chair.

Hermes swooped down on Crouch who deftly hit the bird with a Stupefying charm. It landed on top of Delamere's desk knocking over quills and inkwells. Parchment littered the floor around the desk.

"You couldn't leave well alone could you?" Bailey's face was contorted in an angry scowl Delamere had never seen before.

"Who the devil are you? Where's Bailey?" he demanded.

"He's has been rendered unconscious for the time being," the pseudo-Bailey replied smoothly.

He surveyed Willard's office. Along with tomes of law books, framed photographs lined many of the book shelves. The man picked up one with a silver frame in a gloved hand. A sandy-haired young man stood with his wife on the doorsteps of what he supposed was their home. The man held a little boy by the hand while his wife held their baby. "Lovely family your nephew has. I've heard he's just had a little girl too," the man said enviously. "Lucky man." He replaced the photo on the shelf.

"You leave my family and my owl out of this. Your quarrel is with me, _Crouch_," Delamere said. It dawned on him that Crouch didn't know where the girl had really ended up and Merlin help him, he was going to make sure the man never suspected the truth.

"Don't fool yourself. They're not really your _family_," Crouch snorted. "You married a barren Muggle woman and latched onto you're sister's son. How very pathetic. Don't piss yourself though. I have no intention of harming them. No, this will end here. You're the last loose end to _tie up._" He laughed at his own pun.

"_Evanesco." _The desk was cleared of all its paperwork.

"I think this is the first time in a decade that I've seen the surface of my desk in quite some time," Delamere quipped. "Georgian pine. If you don't make my death too bloody, I've willed it to my nephew. Family heirloom, you know. So tell me. How did you weasel your way out of the contract?" Delamere asked. The contract they had signed was upheld by Magic. A signer paid with his life if he failed to uphold his end of the bargain.

"I learned from my mistakes. Took a page out of Maddox's book. You remember the slimy flobberworm don't you? He was the barrister the Lestranges hired to save themselves from the Dementor's kiss. And if you can also recall, it was my assistant, Weatherby who drew up the contract. I made sure that the main clause of it read that custody would be bestowed to the Malfoys upon the _recorded_ birth of the child." Crouch said smugly.

"That's why she didn't have a birth certificate," Delamere realized.

"Finally catching on, old man. Yes, it was a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself." Crouch smirked maliciously. "And to think I was worried that you'd catch the wordplay. But you were perhaps too inebriated to notice. One really shouldn't mix fire-whisky with business. It's bad form."

"You walking sack of sewer scum," Delamere raged. "What could you have possibly gotten out of all this? Did you kill her yourself or did you have your henchmen do your dirty work?" It was time to divert the attention of his enemy away from his family.

"No," Crouch said coldly. "I was _merciful_. I had it sent to an orphanage. That's more generosity than the Lestranges ever showed their victims."

"Bullshit, Crouch. The only reason you let that girl live is because of the clauses of the contract. Merlin, forgive me, for not seeing you for the snake in the grass that you are. I wasn't so inebriated that I don't remember that you'd drop dead if you caused her intentional physical harm," Delamere said. "I didn't foresee that you'd be low enough to kidnap her. Kudos, to you Crouch. How does it feel to be a vile miserable excuse for a human being?"

"I had every right to do what I did and more. They took my son. I took their daughter." Crouch seethed with hatred. "My only son. My heir. Because of that bastard Rodolphus and his bitch of a wife, my family is in ruins. My son's rotting in prison. And my wife. My angel of a wife is dying. _Dying_, Delamere! And the Crouch name will end with me. They'll never make me Minister. I know that now, even after all those years slaving away for them. But I'll have the last laugh. I've brought down the oldest Houses of them all. The Lestranges and Blacks will be wiped clean off the face of the earth. And my vendetta will be complete."

"Wake-up, Crouch. You lost your son a long time before the Lestranges came along," You brought disaster to yourself. You lost your son long before the Lestranges came along and all for a bigger office so you could play at being a demagogue. If you'd spent less time trying to further your career, you'd have noticed what he was becoming," Willard said.

"Don't you dare presume to understand me. You don't know what it was like for us. What we went through with the Dark Lord and his minions. You never fought them. Death Eaters are like tumors of a malignant cancer. Sometimes you have to amputate. You have to sever the limb to save the body. You can't see it, but I'm protecting future generations, from these monsters," Crouch said with all the fanaticism of a religious convert as he gripped the armrests of his chair.

"The only monster I see is the one sitting in front of me," Delamere retorted. "Is this the bedtime story you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? You're just as bad as the Death Eaters. And they're just copycats of the Walpurgis Knights."

Crouch was jarred by the revelation. "You fought Grindelwald?"

"Yes, you self-righteous bastard, I did. Apparently, I risked my life fighting to liberate Europe, so that shits like you could live and breathe alongside decent folk," Delamere said scornfully.

"A war veteran; I didn't know. Well you'll be joining your comrades in Valhalla very soon," Crouch said. "Any last words?" he asked getting to his feet and pointing his wand at the man.

"I've lived a good life," he said glancing over the photos. "My legacy isn't a surname. It's a hundred different moments and memories spent well," Delamere said solemnly.

"Well put," Crouch said before casting _Avada Kedavra_.

* * *

**Friday, September 22nd, 1996**

New York City

A short pudgy man in a tweed plaid suit agitatedly wrung his cap in his hands. "Ach! Vhy do you toy with him? He is lame horse. Put him out of misery. Vhy are you taking so long? FINISH HIM!" he exclaimed.

"Boris, please control yourself!" Bev admonished. She pushed a lock of black hair that had fallen out her chignon back over her ear. "This is just a game."

The throbbing vein in near the man's temple appeared close to bursting. "Just a game! A game! This is not a game! Vhy do you insult me, Behverly? This iz var!"

"I will not be shouted at Boris," she warned. "This is just a friendly game of chess," Bev replied.

"_Friendly game?_" Boris repeated in disbelief ice-blue eyes bulging in disbelief and then collected himself. "My dear, Mrs. Keating. You are artist, yes? Vell, chess is art too. It is the art of var in purest form. Mind against mind. Vill against – ahh! Mr. Keating," Boris greeted the man with wide grin.

"Rick! Thank Merlin, you made it," Bev said with relief. Another moment and she would have hexed Boris.

"Sorry, I'm so late, honey. The deposition took longer than expected. Forgive me?" Rick asked.

"It's not me you should be apologizing to," she said mildly irked. This was an important tournament for Sera. It was for the state title and a chance to compete in nationals.

"What did I miss?" he asked.

"You only miss daughter's many victories over bourgeoisie brats," Boris chastised the man.

Rick looked out the glass panel. He saw his daughter sitting placidly across an older boy with curly brown hair. The boy exuded confidence. There were only a few pieces remaining on the board. It was the endgame.

"You know she vait for you. I almost have heart attack vatching her vaste time with this one," Boris continued chiding him. "You are vhy she is taking so long. Now she vill slaughter him. Then we get trophy and haff big lunch."

Bev shook her head and leaned against Rick, the only other sane person in the room.

"Rick shouldn't we be teaching our daughter to enjoy playing the game? That it doesn't matter whether she wins or loses…it's-"

"How you play the game," he finished the cliché. "Sera knows we love her. Besides, she's interacting with her peers. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, but not like this. He makes it out to be some kind of bloodsport," Bev replied. "Look at him, Rick," she hissed into her husband's ear.

Rick glanced over at the chess coach. The man wore an ecstatic expression that bordered on semi-crazed. The Russian chess coach was savoring the victory of his protégé to over the pupil of his old nemesis, Murray Chandler. They had been pitted against one another since boyhood during the cold war. Boris Janowsky had lost to him, but now he would be the one eating sour grapes. Chandler's student, the Cleaver boy was going to lose miserably.

Outside the sound proof glass, Joshua Cleaver was self-assured of his victory.

"Queen to D four," he said with a smirk and watched as his queen decapitated Keating's bishop. The black figure's headless body gathered up its head and crossed over to the sidelines. "Try not to cry little girl," he sniggered. "This is a man's game. Maybe you should run home and play with your dollies."

"What did he say?" Bev asked enraged.

"Wait, Bev," he said blocking the doorway. "He's just trying to psyche her out. It's just trash-talk."

"Do not vorry, Behverly," Boris tried to assure her. "Sera vill still vin."

"I'm not worried about her winning. I won't have her belittled. Why aren't the referees doing anything?"

"Rules let him say vhat he likes. Boy has bad teacher. Did not teach him manners," Boris explained self-righteously. "Vatch, Sera vill not be distracted by such nonsense. I teach her vell. Vatch, Behverly. You vill see."

Bev turned from the doorway back to the glass. It was true her daughter was unperturbed by the boy's taunts.

"Queen to B one," Sera said. "Check." Her black queen glared menacingly at the white king.

Josh was forced to retreat his white queen to protect the king at the sacrifice of his knight. He watched in barely concealed anger as the black queen raised her sword and swung. The knight was knocked of his horse which galloped off without him and left the poor soldier limping after it.

"Ha! Take that you misogynistic brat!" Bev exclaimed.

"Getting into the spirit of things?" Rick asked.

In revenge, Josh launched his queen across the board to take out a black pawn. He watched in delight as the white lady skewered the foot soldier.

"He has hot temper. Another bad quality for chess player. But vhat do you expect from inferior coach," Boris commented smugly.

"Check," said Sera as her queen once again threatened the opposing king.

Josh realized his foolhardiness and promptly retreated knowing it was too late. His queen took up its former protective stance next to the king, who was also hemmed in by two of his own white pawns.

"Queen to G one," said Sera. "Checkmate."

Cameras flashed to take pictures of the winner, her coach and proud parents. It was the first time in half a century that a witch had claimed the trophy; a small news item for the local press.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

1) I really need some feedback on this chapter. What do you think of Sera? There's more to her that I couldn't put out yet. Without giving anything away, she's not a Mary Sue and she's not what the Lestranges will envision their dream child to be.

2) I didn't want to kill Willard. I really liked him, but he knew too much.

Next chapter... Lestranges, Malfoys and Keatings are on a collision course.

Thanks to Jessica for a review every chapter! Lady Alexandra for cheering the story on. 4thBlackSister for the constructive critiques. Gracias to Rose Richelieu, Maritele, reveur idioteque, and new reviewers LMTran, note taken on the Latin, and ShyOrangette for your encouraging reviews!

* * *


	16. Chapter 16 Seek and You will Find

**Chapter 16 – Seek and You Will Find**

**Warning: This is a work of fiction and not meant to imitate reality in any shape, way or form. In this chapter an illness will be mentioned and part of its symptoms will be described which are specific to this character. My only experience with this illness is that in fifth grade I helped make a really large book to help another student who had this illness and also a visual impairment. By no means, is this chapter based on real life experience or real medical fact. Please, do not form assumptions about people who are afflicted with this illness based on this fictional portrayal. **

**Present Day**

**Friday, September 22nd, 1996**

Lunch at _Josephina's_

"Sorry, I'm late," Danny apologized. "Coach wanted me to stay late for goalie prac– _Is_ that the trophy?" he asked.

The trophy had been given its own chair and stood four feet tall. At its base were four large colonnades supporting a golden cup with his sister's name engraved into the shiny metal.

"This is trinket compared to the one she'll get at the next one," Janowsky gloated and spun more spaghetti onto his overloaded fork.

"Way to go, sis!" Danny congratulated her with a wide grin.

"Thank you, Danny," she replied placidly.

"She's the first witch to win the state championship in over fifty years," Bev added. She ran a hand through her daughter's dark shining hair that hung down her back.

"She is being like secret veapon. All they see is pretty little girl. Then," _BAM! _Janowsky pounded the table with his fist so hard the plates and utensils clattered. "She is bloving them out of vater."

"Mr. Janowsky," Rick intoned warningly. "Please, contain your enthusiasm. We're all very proud of Sera, but she's not a weapon. It's a friendly competition."

"_We must foster values of sportsmanship_," Will quoted one of his father's lectures. "Come on dad, you're the one who the referees ejected from Dan's last Quidditch game."

"Hey, who's paying for your college tuition plus room and board," Rick reminded.

"Objection withdrawn," Will said quickly.

"Your father arrived just in time to stop your mother from cursing Cleaver boy," Janowsky said. "Your father is talk, but your mother take out vand."

"Really?" Danny asked disbelievingly with a raised eyebrow. "Mom, is that true?"

Beverly pretended to be too busy chewing to reply.

"Yep, your mom was ready to hex the kid. I had to block the exit," Rick vouched.

"Hey," Bev tapped her husband on the shoulder. "Whose side are you on? Alright, I may have overreacted," she admitted. "I was just so infuriated by what he said to your sister that I temporarily lost it. The little chauvinist said that chess was a _man's_ game and told Sera that she should go home and play with her dollies."

"Well, Sera proved him wrong," Loretta praised her goddaughter. A _man's_ game, really, she thought to herself. The only game limited to men was seeing who could piss the farthest.

"What did you think of this Cleaver boy?" Loretta asked her.

"Joshua Cleaver is not a nice boy," she said placidly. "And he is not a challenging opponent."

Janowsky watched as his protégé separated her peas from the mashed potatoes and cut the chicken breast into cubes and pushed the irregular shaped pieces aside.

Will nudged the man in the elbow causing Janowsky's fork to fall out his hand.

They both bent down to pick up the fallen utensil.

"Vhat are you doing?" Janowsky demanded to know.

"Don't stare at my sister," Will hissed into his ear. "She doesn't like it."

"Oh," Janowsky said abashedly. "I am sorry."

"Just don't do it again," Will said stonily before returning to his seat quickly.

Janowsky parted ways with the Keatings who spent the rest of the evening at the movies before returning to their comfortable residence. Fridays were sacred in the Keating household. Friday Family Night had become more important after Will's departure to Hartford University's, School of Law. Rick and Bev had been careful to allow him to pursue whatever studies interested him, but it appeared there was some truth to the Keating myth that law ran in the veins of the family like water in the Mississippi.

After Will apparated back to school, the rest of the family retired to their beds.

Rick tucked Sera into bed after reading her another chapter of Homer's, _Odysseus_.

"Is it true you were waiting for me, sweetheart?" Rick asked.

"Yes, father. You said you were coming," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Of course," he said kissing her on her forehead. "Goodnight, princess."

"Goodnight, father," she replied as he closed the lights and shut the door.

Bev was sitting up reading a children's book.

"Are you checking out the competition too?" he asked. "When did our family become so adversarial?"

"There's no such thing in the world of children's publishing," she retorted with a wicked smile.

He climbed into bed next to her and they both fell into a contented sleep.

**Sunday, September 24th, 1996**

New York City

Lucius entered the dimly lit Italian restaurant with an air of disgust. The city was teeming with Muggles. At least this establishment was divided into Mage and Muggle sections. He would lose his supper if he had to dine amongst the vermin.

His cold gray eyes narrowed as he spotted his dinner companion for the evening. He was a heavyset man wearing in what even passed for Muggle clothing was a fashion crime.

"Do you have the information, Mr. Roscoe?" Lucius asked impatiently. He sipped at the barely potable house elf wine he had ordered, as his dinner companion gnawed away at a sirloin steak like a hungry cur.

"Depends. Do you got the money?" Roscoe asked. He dabbed the corners of his mouth with the formerly pristine white cloth napkin.

Roscoe had expressly chosen a dimly lit booth towards the back of the restaurant. Reno's was his preferred place to open or close deals. It was always at least half-filled, which meant plenty of witnesses, should his clients get out of hand. The wait staff knew better than to do more than take orders and serve food.

Lucius discreetly passed the man a black velvet pouch heavy with fifty galleons.

Roscoe in turn opened his briefcase and handed a portfolio over to Lucius. The pale blond man poured over its contents approvingly.

"Well done, Mr. Roscoe," he commended him. "The compass, if you please."

"Oh, yeah. Forgot," he mumbled as he reached a hand into his pocket. He returned it to Lucius who quickly pocketed the object Rodolphus had so ingeniously attached the crystal to and charmed to emit ever darkening shades of green as it came closer to the girl.

"You're quite the photographer, Mr. Roscoe," he said as he turned the pages of the report. "How did you manage?"

"Blended right in with the rest of the reporters," Roscoe bragged.

"Reporters?" asked Lucius intrigued.

"Yeah. She won some chess competition. They were there covering it. I snipped out the news article yesterday. It's in there. Is that why you're so interested? Scouting her?" he asked cutting into the medium rare flesh.

Lucius ignored his question and stood up. "Good day, Mr. Roscoe. Do enjoy your meal," he said. "I have important business elsewhere today."

Lucius apparated to the international floo station and from its exit at Charing Cross, he apparated to the backyard garden of the Lestrange cottage. The sound of his apparition drew the attention of its anxious occupants.

"Did you find her?" Bellatrix demanded immediately. Rodolphus caught up behind her.

"Good morning, sister," said Lucius, shortly. The desperation in her eye told him not to belabor the moment. "Yes. It's all here."

"Let's go inside, luv" Rodolphus said shepherding back into the cottage. "Thank you, Lucius."

Bellatrix untied the portfolio and pulled out the sheaves of parchments and photographs. Her breathe stilled as she beheld her daughter for the first time. Rodolphus felt his heart contract. They drank in the image of their only daughter like a drowning man for air.

"Oy, she looks just like Bella," Rabastan declared over their shoulders.

"Yes," Lucius agreed pouring himself a glass of a fine red wine from the crystal decanter. "Spitting image. We'll still have to do a blood test to be sure."

"Her name," Bella said to husband. She clasped his hand as she pointed it out to him.

It was a short new clipping from the Greenwich Gazette with a black-and-white photograph. It read:

_**Local Teen-Witch Wins Wizarding Chess Championship**_

_For the first time in fifty-three years, the New York State Wizarding Chess Championship has been awarded to a witch. Fourteen year old novice, Seraphina Bianca Keating of Greenwich Village defeated four varsity ranked players, to play a close game with the former reigning champion of the past two years, seventeen-year-old Joshua Hamlin Cleaver. _

"Seraphina Bianca Lestrange," Rodolphus said the name slowly. "It has a certain ring to it. Although I think I'd have preferred Bianca as her first name," Rodolphus mused. "So strange, that we didn't name our own child."

"I wanted to name her after my mother," Bellatrix said her voice laced with disappointment and loss. "She'd have been so proud."

"Ugh," Rabastan let slip from behind.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Nothing… only that your mother's name was Hippolyta," Rabastan reminded her needlessly.

Bellatrix's withering glare bore into him. "_And?_"

"Well just imagine what her schoolmates would do with such a name. They'd call her Hippie or Hippo or Polly. No disrespect to your mother," he amended.

"It is my right to name my child whatever name I choose," she said scathingly as she rose from the sedan. "How dare these people name my daughter!"

"Be reasonable, luv." Rodolphus attempted to calm her. "They had to call her something."

"I want her," she turned back to him. "She's ours. She should be with us. Not with these people."

"I know," he soothed. "I feel the same way. You don't think I want to apparate over there and claim her? She's my daughter too. We've waited fourteen years for this. If we're to be a family, we must abide by the Dark Lord's timetable. For now the Malfoys will care for her. Isn't that right, Lucius?"

"But of course, Rodolphus. Family is everything to me," he said silkily.

Bellatrix reseated herself on the couch and picked up the photo. "She doesn't look happy, does she?" she asked Rodolphus. The girl's calm demeanor contrasted with the exuberance of her tutor, Boris Janowsky and her foster parents.

**Monday, September 25th, 1996**

New York City

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Mr. Maddox," Rick greeted them in turn. "How can I help you?" he asked as they took their seats across from his desk.

"Mr. Keating," Lucius began. "One wonders how to begin such a conversation. My dear wife and I are searching for our niece."

"My sister's child," Narcissa clarified.

"She was kidnapped soon after birth. We were deceived into believing she was stillborn. We have reason to believe that your daughter may be our missing niece," Lucius finished. "Is she by any chance adopted?"

"Yes," Rick admitted. His face had become ashen. "But there are hundreds of adopted children in this city."

"This is quite easily settled, Mr. Keating," said Mr. Maddox, speaking for the first time. "If you will submit your daughter to a simple blood test, we will be able to see if she matches a close maternal relative, Mrs. Malfoy, of course."

"If my daughter turns out to be your niece, is it your intention to fight for custody?" Keating asked, his demeanor taking on a determined edge.

'Fight for custody,' Lucius repeated. "It will not be necessary to duel over this matter. Simply put, the Lestranges signed custody of your daughter over to us upon her birth. Maddox has discovered a peculiarity in the contract. It states that the child would be turned over to us in the event of its 'recorded' birth. However, there is no birth certificate for the girl. There is no record official of the girl's origins at all."

"Have you been able to obtain her medical records?" Keating queried.

"No," Maddox answered. "They've been sealed curiously enough."

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, my daughter Seraphina has a rare illness," he explained.

"She does not appear ill," Lucius said pointedly. What was the man playing at? He wondered.

"It's a neurological disorder. She was diagnosed when she was five years old. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Sera is –"

"_Autistic_," Lucius told the Lestranges.

"Who cares if she's artistic?" Rabastan blurted out. "I don't care if my niece likes to draw or paint or –"

"No," Lucius said thoroughly annoyed. "She suffers from a disease called autism. It's a disorder of the brain. Her fa… foster father, Mr. Keating has given me some literature on the illness." He placed the book on the coffee table. "Seraphina's particular form of the illness is known as Asperger's Syndrome. She lacks the ability to express emotion."

"She can't smile or laugh or cry," Narcissa explained more delicately and put a comforting arm around her sister and sat beside her on the sedan. "It's difficult for her to understand emotion in others as well. Apparently, they had to teach her what a smile meant. Even how to tell an angry face from a happy one. The Keatings are very kind to her."

"Did they do this to her?" Bellatrix questioned.

"No, whatever for," Lucius said in exasperation. This was not turning out the way he had anticipated. "No one knows the cause," he continued. Muggles suffer from it, but Seraphina is among the few ever recorded case in our world."

"Emotionless," Rodolphus said to himself. He paled as he comprehended the cause. "The Dementors…"

"Well, I think you can understand why it's best for everyone to leave the child with the Keatings," said Lucius.

"Better for you, you mean! You promised to take her in!" Rodolphus rose up.

"But she has very particular needs," Narcissa went to her husband's side. "Surely you don't expect Lucius and me to raise an invalid girl. The Keatings have done well with her for all this time."

"Fine, _sister_," Bellatrix retorted venomously. "We'll see what the Dark Lord has to say."

**Author's Notes:**

1) I literally finished this at three o'clock in the morning, so it may not have the best spelling or grammar.

2) Dying to know what you think.

Thanks Jessica for your last review! Yep, she's not their dream child that's for sure.

And thanks to LMTran. Wow! Thanks for the detailed reviews. Nice catch on the newspaper article. Yeah, I've been trying to figure out to what extent her genetics, upbringing and now her illness contribute to her overall personality. And another nice catch on the 'cur' thing.

Thanks for reading. And please review. :)

I am now amending this chapter because a reviewer (duj) has made me aware and gotten through my insomniac addled brain that people could get the wrong idea that autistics are or appear emotionless, which is completely untrue and it is untrue to this character as well. Plus, it's the Malfoy's relaying the information and how trustworthy are they? For factual information I suggest this link: http/ www. autism. org


	17. Chapter 17 Bringing Up Baby

**Warning**: **This is a work of fiction and not meant to imitate reality in any shape, way or form. In this chapter, autism will be mentioned by characters with fictional medical credentials. By no means, is this chapter based on real life experience or real medical fact. Please, do not form assumptions about people who are afflicted with this illness based on this fictional portrayal. For more information about autism a good website is: www. autism . org **

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* * *

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**Chapter 17 Bringing Up Baby**

**November 25, 1985**

Sera at age 3

"Sera, honey, what are you doing?" asked Bev. She looked up from her painting when her daughter didn't answer.

The little girl was sitting a few feet away with her back turned towards her mother and facing the window instead. The sunlight reflected off her jet black hair casting a halo like a crown on the top of her head. Sera was forever swatting loose strands of hair out of her eyes. Rick found the gesture endearing, like a cat washing its face with its paws.

Every morning, Bev brushed Sera's shining straight hair and held it back with one or two of the many barrettes that were showered on her from her grandmother. The little girl had a drawer full of hair accessories.

Strangers on the street regularly remarked on how cute, adorable, or precious she was.

'Oh, she's going to be a real heartbreaker, when she grows up,' people would say.

'The boy's will be calling in no time,' others would predict. To which Rick would reply that he'd be waiting for them with his wand drawn.

Then there was the occasional heartrending statement that 'She looks just like her mother or father.' The person would remark on some resemblance he or she saw. There was the similar hair color, though Bev's hair was finer than her daughter's. The child's blue eyes were far darker than her father's. These were the comments Bev dreaded the most.

It reminded her of the daughter she had lost. She and Rick visited Sara Phoebe's grave every three months. They would keep the memory of their daughter alive between themselves. And one day, they'd explain it to the boys and Sera. She wondered if they would hate them for withholding the truth. Maybe it would be better not to tell them. The truth was a double-edged sword as far as Bev was concerned. In some cases, it was more merciful not to know.

Bev disliked the attention Sera drew with good reason. The Keatings had been approached on three occasions by Muggle modeling and acting agents, who scoured the parks looking for their next child star to exploit. She and Rick politely refused, of course. Merlin knew they didn't need the money.

But one of these parasites, as Bev considered them, followed them home one day. She had been returning home from the market laden with groceries, pushing Sera in a stroller, while seven-year old Will obediently held his younger brother's hand and walked alongside their mother. Of course, Will had been bribed with a chocolate frog or two to be consumed after they reached home. Bev put down the groceries on the doorstep and turned her keys in the door ready to collapse on the sofa – when Will suddenly shouted, "Get away from _my_ baby!"

A man was standing over the stroller touching her daughter's cheek. Little Will stomped on his foot.

"Stupid brat!" the man shouted at her boy.

"Mommy!" Will cried out as the man raised his hand to strike him.

A surge of horror and rage ran through Bev like lightening and she channeled it all into a simple stupefying spell that left the man lying motionless on the sidewalk. Sera was screaming. Bev trembled as she picked her up and checked her for any injury. "I'm so sorry baby. Will, honey are you alright?"

"Yes, mommy," he said amazed by his mother's power. "That was cool. Do it again!"

"Take Danny inside the house," she told him. She recognized the man lying prone of the ground as Barry Watergate, with his unshaved face and grimy hands. He was the creepy guy who had forced his business card on her when she had taken the kids to the park.

As Will led his brother away, the three year old kicked the unconscious man in the side for good measure not wanting to be left out of the event. "Bad man!" he shouted, before Will pulled him into the house.

The Patrollers were called in. The Muggle witnesses were Obliviated. It was discovered that Mr. Watergate's so-called child modeling agency was really a front for child pornography. It was sickening. Rick and Bev wanted to kill him. But instead, Watergate was Obliviated and turned over to Muggle authorities. Prison was too good for the lowlife.

Then Rick's mother had descended on the household like a hailstorm after the incident. She berated Bev. 'How could you have let such a depraved monster get so close to my granddaughter? What if he had been a Wizard? How could you have turned your back on the children even for a moment?' Evelyn's criticism was relentless.

Rick defended his wife and blamed himself for not being there to protect his family. However, the incident had badly shaken Bev sense of security. She wouldn't leave the house or allow the children to go outside no matter how he tried to reason with her.

Finally, Loretta had stepped in to lend a hand. She moved in with the Keatings at Rick's unabashed pleading. Her arrival in the household gave Rick and Bev the help they so badly needed. It also provided them with an excuse to refuse Evelyn's insistence that they move to Virginia and live with her. Auntie Lori, as the children called her, was better than a fairytale godmother as far as Bev was concerned. Will and Danny adored the Loretta's stories of Merlin, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Her presence set the household in balance – three adults to watch over three kids.

Of course, Evelyn had not left empty handed. She exacted a promise from her son that the family would spend an accumulated month's time with her in the stuffy Virginian mansion every year. This came to mean that every major holiday and part of the summer vacation was spent in the presence of the domineering matriarch.

Bev and Evie had never gotten along very well. The woman thought she wasn't good enough for her son and Bev had given up long ago trying to be anything other than herself for anyone.

* * *

"Sera?" Bev called her again. The three year old remained silent. 

Bev washed her hands of paint and wiped them on a rag.

She crouched down on the floor beside to her daughter. Sera was spinning Danny's old tops that Willard had given him. They weren't magical, but she supposed that to a child the rotating motion and twirling colors were nevertheless entrancing.

"You're so quiet, baby. You make mommy worried, you know," Bev relayed her concerns to the toddler.

She saw that Sera had lined the five tops in a neat row in front of her. The middle one fell down and the girl who had been so still moved to pick it up never glancing up at her mother.

Bev felt a pang of heartache. Did Sera know somehow? Did she have some intuitive knowledge that this wasn't she wasn't her _real_ mother? She ran a hand through Sera's hair to get her attention. "Can mommy play too?" she asked.

"Yes, mother can play too," Sera said softly.

Beverly spun one of the tops. It knocked into two of the others.

"No, mother," the girl said firmly without raising her tone. Sera never had to be told to be quiet or to use her inside voice. If anything sound had to be coaxed out of her. The little girl lined the tops in a row again and spun them so that they stayed more or less turning in the same spot.

"Oh, I see," said Bev. "Isn't that boring though?"

"No, it is not boring," Sera answered, her dark eyes glued to the sight of the spinning tops.

"Alright, sweetie. Can you turn around and play so that mommy can see you, while she works?" Bev asked.

Sera gathered the tops into the lap of her navy blue dress and turned to face her mother's work area.

Beverly returned to her canvas glancing up occasionally to watch Sera methodically keeping all five tops spinning in a neat row.

* * *

**June 15, 1986**

Sera at age 4

They had taken the children in for a checkup at Healer Tate's. He was a balding middle-aged wizard, who enjoyed tickling his young patients and offering them sugar-less lollipops.

"Mr. and Mrs. Keating might I speak to you alone," asked Tate.

"I'll watch the little 4arling's," offered Loretta as the children played in the playroom of the Healer's office.

"What's wrong?" asked Rick.

Tate didn't answer but moved behind his desk. Sera's progress chart was laid out on the desk before him where he had marked out the problem areas.

"Mr. and Mrs. Keating, I have reason to believe that your daughter may be mentally retarded," he stated frankly.

"What?" Bev asked in alarm.

"This is difficult for you," said Tate. "I sympathize, but it would cause greater pain to ignore the facts. Sera is five years old now and her vocabulary is less than a hundred words. It appears to be more to you, because she tends to repeat parts of a sentence you have said to her. I don't think she has any comprehension of what she's echoing. She doesn't respond to her own name at times. She's had a number of developmental delays as well. She was slow to crawl and the transition to walking took six months longer than a normal child. And you've brought her in two times from accidents due to clumsiness. This suggests to me impaired motor skills as well."

"Sweet Nimue," said Bev. "What should we do?"

Rick was speechless. Each point the Healer brought up was like taking a bludger to the head.

"Prepare yourselves," Tate advised. "Your daughter will not be like other children. As she gets older her developmental delays will become more apparent. I'm afraid she'll always be a bit _slower _than the rest."

Loretta informed Bev and Rick that it was a load of horseshit, but a second visit to a different Healer confirmed Tate's assessment.

* * *

**October 25, 1987**

Sera at age 5

"Agh!" Danny shouted. "Give it back! You're gonna mess it up."

Rick walked down the hallway to his daughter's room drawn by the sound of commotion.

Danny was lying flat on the floor looking underneath the bed. He had grown too big to slip underneath and had to contend himself with reaching his arm as far as it could go.

"What's going on here?" asked their father.

"Sera's took my math textbook and she won't give it back," his son exclaimed. "She's gonna rip out the pages or drool on it or something."

"Let me handle this Danny," he said.

The eight year old stood up and folded his arms.

Rick was now the one lying flat on his stomach peering underneath his daughter's bed. He could see his daughter huddled in the far corner with her face so close the page it looked like she was resting her head on the book.

"Sera," he called out to her.

"Yes, father," she answered in her familiar monotone voice.

"Do you have your brother's book?" he asked patiently.

"Yes, father. I have my brother's book," she answered.

"Sera, you know better than to take something without asking. I'm surprised at you. Why did you take Danny's book?" he queried.

"I wanted to read it," she replied simply.

"It's a math book dummy," Danny said scornfully. "You don't _read_ a math book. You don't even know how to read because you're retarded!"

Rick sat up to look his son in the eye. "Did you just call your sister a dummy and retarded?"

"Well, she is," Danny answered defiantly. His face flushed with anger.

"Daniel Roderick Keating, go to your room right now and think about what you said. I will talk to your later, after I deal with this." Rick ordered. "Then your mother and I will have a long talk with you."

"But it's not…"

"Go to your room," his father repeated sternly.

"Fine," the little boy stomped all the way to the end of the hall and slammed the door to his bedroom. He plopped down on his bed and nursed a grudge. His parents were always coddling Sera because she was slow. They flipped out when anyone implied she was stupid, even though she was. Sera got away with everything. She took his book and he was the one that was going to get punished. They'd probably praise her for finding a hiding place only she could fit in. Baby sisters were a complete pain.

"Seraphina come out from under the bed," Rick said standing up.

She slid out with the book clutched in her hands.

"Sera, you have your own books, don't you?" he asked pointing at her bookcase.

"Yes, I have my own books," she confirmed.

"So why did you take your brother's book?"

"I do not have this book," she said. "He was not reading it."

"Well Danny wants to read it now and… Sera, we both know that you can't read," he said.

"I can read," she objected.

"I know you want to be like other kids, sweetheart. You have to take it slowly. We can read one of your books," he said.

"I have already read all of my books," she replied.

"Looking at the pictures is not the same as reading," he explained.

"I can read," she insisted.

Rick shook his head. "I'm very disappointed in you, princess. Give me the book, Sera. And then we'll talk about not telling fibs."

"I am not telling fibs. I want to finish reading," Sera said clutching it possessively.

Rick sat down on her bed hearing it creak under his weight. He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten in frustration at the girl's obstinacy.

"Let's make a deal," he sighed. "If you can read that book, then you can keep it. How's that?"

"Okay, father," she agreed. She sat down next to him and opened the book to the middle. "The result of multiplication is the total number, called the product," she read aloud in a sing-song voice, "that would be obtained by combining several multiplier groups of similar size called the mulipicand. The same –"

Rick blinked. Was he dreaming? Was he having a hallucination? Had he cracked under the pressures of parenthood?

"Bev!" he shouted.

"I am reading, father," Sera said. It was strange for her father to interrupt her when she was speaking.

"Bev!" he shouted again.

It was even stranger for him to yell, Sera thought. Screaming was not allowed in the house except in emergencies.

"What? What is it?" Bev huffed out. She had sprinted up the steps from the kitchen.

"Bev," he said jumping to his feet. "Sera can read!"

"Oh, that's wonderful," she said putting a hand over her palpitating heart. "But was it really necessary for you to scare the living daylights out of me. I thought one of the kids was hurt."

"Sorry," he apologized quickly. "But Sera can read. I mean really _read_."

Bev sat down beside their daughter. "What are you reading, honey?" she asked glancing at the cover of the thick volume.

It was a math book. It was Danny's textbook, she recognized.

"_The Fundamentals of Fourth Grade Arithmancy_," Sera said nodding her head at each syllable. Then she pointed out where she had left off to her mother, whose mouth was gaping open in amazement. "The same result can be obtained by repeated addition," she sang out again, kicking her legs against the bedframe at each syllable.

Bev took hold of Sera. "Baby, why didn't you tell us you could read?"

"You did not ask me," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Loretta!" Beverly screamed.

Sera's godmother soon joined them. It seemed to Sera that this must be a very good book to draw so much attention. She felt she had chosen well, when she went into her brother's room in search of relief from boredom.

Rick was able to convince Sera to relinquish the book and gave it back to his son. He promised Sera that would purchase another one for her.

She agreed because there were scribbles and strange pictures drawn into the book that vaguely resembled a vicious ogre she had seen in her storybooks. The ogre Danny depicted was named Mrs. Cartwright, who it seemed could not 'fart right.' Poor, Mrs. Cartwright must be a giant with gastrointestinal problems. It did not seem right for Danny to make fun of the woman's ailment, but then again Danny found humor in many strange things.

"Why didn't you show us you could read sooner?" Bev asked her.

"I like it when you read to me,"' Sera said. "You do not read to Danny and Will anymore."

Rick and Bev frowned in confusion.

"I think I understand," Loretta said. "Sera saw that we stopped reading to Will and Danny after they learned to read for themselves," she surmised.

"Is that right, honey?" Rick asked.

"Yes, father," she said.

Rick picked her up glowing with fatherly pride. "Ha! Mentally retarded! I don't think so!" He said to some imaginary adversary, Sera could not see. "I'm going to give Tate and Munchausen a piece of my mind tomorrow."

"But father, you need all the pieces of your mind," Sera objected.

"Yes, he does, honey," Bev agreed with a wicked smirk.

* * *

"Actually, I'm not at all surprised by the Healers assessment. Autism can sometimes be mistaken for mental retardation. It's an exceptionally rare diagnosis for anyone in the Wizarding World. There are less than a handful of living autistic mages," she paused to let the news sink. "In my medical opinion, Seraphina demonstrates many of the symptoms of a high-functioning autistic, particularly those who suffer from Asperger's syndrome. While she has advanced cognitive abilities, she is impaired in other ways," the woman stood in front of her desk as she addressed the seated couple. 

"Healer Engels, forgive my skepticism –" Rick said before she interrupted him.

"_Doctor_ Engels, if you please Mr. Keating," she interrupted more sharply than she meant. "I am, if you were not informed previously by Healer Jenson – a _squib_, though I find the epithet demeaning. I received my degree from a Muggle university and obtained a Muggle license to practice medicine. And I would think you were a foolish man if you weren't skeptical." She returned to her seat behind the desk.

"What makes you think Sera has this Asperger's syndrome?" he asked.

"First, you should understand that not all autistics are alike. It's a spectrum illness. Not all patients suffer from the same symptoms nor do they experience it with the same intensity. Sera, as I've observed, has not picked up body language which is learned intuitively by other children. She avoids eye-to-eye contact. She lacks facial expression, body posture and gestures common in social interaction. She told me that her parents and her godmother were her friends, which to me, correct me if I'm wrong – means that she has not made any friends with her peers."

It was true, Bev and Rick conceded.

"I've come to the same conclusion as you that Sera possesses incredible verbal and mathematical skills. At the same time, however, she has a tendency to take things rather literally. Simple expressions like, 'time flies,' have to be explained to her. She doesn't pick the meaning up by context. And her formality even with you. She calls you 'mother' and 'father' instead of mom or dad.

"Secondly, I must tell you that there has never been a confirmed diagnosis of Asperger's syndrome in a mage. Furthermore, the illness predominately afflicts the male gender. This is a radical diagnosis I am making and it will require more observation and testing to be sure," she finished.

"What course of treatment do you suggest?" asked Rick.

"I think we should see if Seraphina has any discernible abnormalities in her brain to rule out a lesion or tumor as a cause of her condition," Engels said dispassionately.

"You want to open up my daughter's head and poke around her brain," Beverly said in alarm.

Dr. Engels smiled. "No. Nothing, so medieval. Muggle science has progressed beyond leeches and lobotomies. I want her to have a magnetic resonance imaging scan. It's not a surgical procedure. It would allow us to get a picture of her brain, similar to an x-ray. You are familiar with x-rays, pictures of the skeletal –"

"Yes, I know what an x-ray is," Bev retorted. It was clear to her that Dr. Engels knew what she was talking about, though she struck Bev as a bit arrogant and one with a huge chip on her shoulder. Yet, the doctor left room for the possibility that she could be wrong unlike the other Healers she and Rick had come across. "Will this hurt her in anyway?" she asked.

"The MRI is a huge piece of machinery. Sera would need to lie as still as possible on a narrow table that slides into something like a large tube. She may experience some discomfort from being in such a confined space and there will be a sort of thumping noise, but she can be given earplugs. It can take from anywhere from thirty to ninety minutes."

"Could we have some time to think about?" Rick queried.

"Yes, of course," Engels said.

* * *

Two weeks later, Rick and Bev watched as Sera was laid out on a table in a white hospital gown. Their daughter didn't fuss or express any anxiety as she was inserted into the machine. It looked like someone closing a drawer.

* * *

**Present-day**

**Monday, September 25th, 1996**

_New York City_

"Her aunt and uncle came to your office?" asked Bev. "How can you be sure they really are related to Sera. They could be con-artists or something."

Rick shook his head. "They wanted to have a blood test done. Mrs. Malfoy claims to be Sera's maternal aunt. I've gotten some background information on them too and it looks – it looks as though Healer Moreau lied to us. The Malfoys say that Sera was _kidnapped_ and that her biological parents were also lied to. They told them that she was stillborn."

"That's terrible." Bev sympathized with the couple. "But why would Healer Moreau lie to us?"

"It occurred to me too," Rick said. "The Malfoys know more than their saying."

"Who are they? Who are Sera's biological parents?" Bev asked the dreaded question.

"You need to stay calm, when I till you this," said Rick easing her down to sit on the bed. "They're Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. They're Death Eaters. They were sentenced to life in Azkaban but they escaped three months ago."

"But if they thought their daughter was stillborn. How did they find out that she was alive?" Bev asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "The point is that they know and I think they're the reason the Malfoys have come looking."

"So you're telling me," Bev swallowed, "that my baby's biological parents are escaped convicts and that they want her back. Well that's just too fucking bad for them. She's _ours_. We adopted her."

"Don't you see, Bev? This nullifies the adoption. The Lestranges gave custody to the Malfoys before they went to prison. _The law_ is on their side," he concluded ominously. "But I think… there's just a chance they might not want her now that they know."

"Know what?" Bev asked pulling him back from his tangent.

"When I told them Sera was autistic, the Malfoys and their slimy attorney couldn't get out of my office fast enough," he said.

"Alright, alright," Bev said to herself and breathed deeply. She wiped away the tears that had fallen. "So, they don't want her. Okay, then. Everything's going to be fine."

"Beverly, they said they would be in touch with me. Legally, they could take her still take her," he told her. "We need to figure out how to deal with this. But first, I think – I think we have to tell them. The kids need to know. We can't put it off anymore."

"They'll hate us Rick," she said. Rick held her against his chest.

"They're teenagers, I think it's their job," he replied wryly.

* * *

**Author's Notes**: 

1) This is once again, a fictional story.

2) Thanks to **Maddevillechilde** for the review :) , and to **LMTran** for your insight (more plot twists in the making), and to **duj** for the commentary, and to **4thBlackSister** – next chapter will feature much more of the Lestranges.


	18. Chapter 18 Sibling Rivalry, Part 1

**Chapter 18 – Sibling Rivalry, Part 1**

**Wednesday, May 1st 1982, Beltane**

"Biddy I want the room moved to the far West Wing," she instructed the brown-eyed house-elf.

"Mistress wants the _room _moved?" the Biddy asked in confusion.

"_Yes_, Mistress wants the room moved," she repeated thoroughly annoyed. "How can you possibly mishear me with those enormous ears of yours? You are to move all the contents of _this_ room into another. Is that clearer?"

"Yes, Mistress. But Biddy is wondering how baby will – AHHH!" the house elf screeched in pain and cradled her right arm. Her purplish skin was scorched. She stifled a whimper under the furious glare of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Listen Biddy and inform the rest of the staff because I will only say this once. There is to be no mention of a baby coming to live in the Manor. Because there is none. Now move the room and seal it. Do you understand or do I need to sear instructions onto your unworthy hide?"

"No! Please Mistress," Biddy cried out fearfully. "Biddy will do as Mistress says."

"You had better. Now leave me," she said with a dismissive wave.

The house-elf popped out of sight to inform the other servants.

Narcissa remained standing in the middle of the kelly-green nursery a hand on her hip and the other unconsciously over her abdomen. She had with careful thought selected a spring garden theme for the room. The early morning light filtered through the lace curtain and spotlighted the empty blonde oak crib. It reflected off the antique silver rattle Draco had outgrown.

A little girl, she thought. Healer Holt had finally told them the sex of the child. Before, the Ministry had instructed the medical staff to withhold the information on the pretense that it had no bearing on the health of Bellatrix. They were a lot of spiteful bureaucrats and gossiping minions, who treated her abominably when ever she had come to visit her sister over the protest of Lucius. He was preoccupied with distancing the family from any connections to the Dark Lord.

Stupid, stupid, Bellatrix and Rodolphus. What sense had it made to go searching for him? What had the monster ever brought them except misery and death? Their ridiculous plan to torture the Longbottoms had yielded nothing. Whose bright idea had that been, Rabastan's? She ventured a guess. Narcissa wouldn't trust him to find a book in a library. He had all the sense of a turnip.

"So tense my dear," said Lucius silkily from behind.

He wrapped his arms around her waist as they surveyed the room together. She fit into his form so well. He breathed in the jasmine scent of her hair and congratulated himself on purchasing the shampoo.

"All this work for naught," he sympathized. "Very lovely though. It's not your fault Bellatrix was unable to deliver."

"So this is her fault?" Narcissa said tearing his hands from her body. "How dare you blame her! She wanted a child more than anything."

"If that's so, why put it in danger by going after Aurors?"

"Oh, not this again," she said raising a hand to her temple. "What's done is done. I don't want to fight about it anymore." She turned from him and gripped the side of the empty crib.

He could the read the tension in her arched back and sighed. He too had looked forward to adding another infant to the family, but it looked as though Draco would remain the only child in the Malfoy Manor. No matter, Lucius had also been an only child and look at how well he'd turned out.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

She nodded knowing he was sorry for infuriating her rather than conceding any fault and allowed him to embrace her once again. She took no backward glance as he led her out of the nursery.

**

* * *

Present-day**

Monday, September 25th 1996

"My own _sister_! If mother were alive, she'd—"

A red jet of light shot out of Bella's wand and struck a table lamp. It shattered, raining pieces down on the floral carpet.

Bellatrix continued her tirade although the object of her scorn had long since apparated away. "If this were the other way round… if this were Draco instead, she'd—"

"But it is not Draco," Rodolphus said.

"Yeh, so much for the sisterhood," Rabastan added, as he mockingly raised a tumbler of whiskey in the air. It shared the fate of the table lamp as it too was blown apart by another red streak from Bellatrix's wand.

"Bloody hell, Bella! You could've blasted off my hand! And, that was good firewhiskey you just destroyed."

"I apologize, _brother dearest_," Bella replied, falsely saccharine, "For wasting good liquor that is."

Rabastan drew his wand.

"Woman, I've had enough of your bitchery!" he snarled. The two drinks he'd imbibed earlier filled him with false confidence of his chances in a duel against his sister-in-law.

"How dare you, pig! You insipid pathetic excuse for a wizard," she said furiously as she strode towards him with her wand held high.

A strong hand gripped wrist. Bellatrix whirled around.

"Rodolphus! How can you side with him?" she asked bitterly at yet another betrayal. Her blue eyes glinted dangerously.

"I'm not siding with anyone," he answered sternly. "I'm stopping you from causing more undo harm to a rather expensive Turkish carpet," he replied coolly and let go of her wrist. He turned his head, "Take leave of us, brother," he commanded.

Rabastan left sullenly with a bottle of elf wine and shut the door behind him.

"We should have left him to rot in Azkaban," she said, sitting down on the sofa.

"Leave him be. We have larger problems to concern ourselves with. Need I remind you that – _our_ _daughter_ is ill," Rodolphus said.

"_Yes_, I'm well aware of that," Bellatrix snapped back. "The Dark Lord will force Cissy and Lucius to return with Seraphina. Then we'll be able to see her. We'll make sure she sees the best Healers. We'll find a cure or something to help her."

"I'm not sure it's curable," he replied pessimistically.

"Why not? Did you get a Healer's diploma by correspondence?" she huffed.

"Because I think the Dementors caused this," he speculated, averting his brown eyes from her to the blood red wine he poured into two crystal glasses.

Bellatrix paled at the thought. "But baby's don't have memories," she protested.

"They have souls, though. Babies have souls," he sighed heavily and drained the glass as he handed the other to his wife.

"You're not saying they took her soul, are you?" The wine shook in the glass as her pale long fingers trembled.

"No," he said firmly. "If they had, she wouldn't be able to do anything. She'd certainly be unable to play chess." He smiled briefly with pride. "But while you were pregnant, the Dementors guarded us for almost a week before the trial," he explained. "Think, Bella. Lucius said she was emotionless. Isn't it conceivable that they had some affect on her even while you were still carrying her?"

"_Damn them_," Bellatrix swore squeezing her eyes shut. "She moved in me though," she said trying to disprove his conjecture. "I can remember that now. Surely, if the Dementors had tried to feed on her, she would have…" she paused and left the sentence unfinished. "After the birth, they tried to hand me that dead thing, I knew it wasn't her. I knew it wasn't mine. The _bastards_ tried to give me a corpse." Her fists were clenched so tightly that the white of her knuckles showed.

Rodolphus got up from his armchair to sit beside her. She relaxed and rested her head against his shoulder. They appreciated the physical presence of each other much more than before their imprisonment. Their relationship had always run hot and cold. Bella's explosive temper was only fanned higher by Rodolphus's cold ferocity, but their mercurial relationship had changed significantly after Bellatrix became pregnant.

Their constant fighting had been an outlet for their frustrations. It was unsaid, but Rodolphus knew they had remained childless for so long because of him. Merlin, knew what had caused his sterility. The Dark Lord had been sympathetic and set Severus to the task of curing him advising the Potions Master along the way. Rodolphus had downed every foul tasting dram they had come up with and miracle of miracles it had worked.

It was for that miracle alone that the Lestranges had remained faithful. It was not from any kind of god-like adulation Barty Crouch junior had exhibited. The Lestranges were loyal out of obligation. The Dark Lord had made good on his promise. He'd given them an heir. Make that heiress, he amended mentally. And now, after thirteen years trapped in the foulest place on earth, they were to be rewarded. They would be reunited with their daughter. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

**Tuesday, September 27th, 1996**

"You're home too?" Danny said in surprise. His brother was lounging on the living room sofa watching Quidditch. "Is this an intervention? Are you hooked on draughts?"

Will threw a pillow at his brother in reponse and shifted over to make room on the couch. "So, you don't know what this is all about either."

"Nope." Danny shrugged and made a grab for the remote.

"Don't think so little brother." Will smirked as he moved the remote out of Danny's reach.

Rick took in the scene with amusement from the staircase.

The boys argued over channels as Will continued to play keep-away with the sought after remote. Finally, Will jabbed Danny in the gut with the it.

The younger boy feigned a groan.

"Here you want it? You got it," he conceded. Constitutional law class had exhausted his energies for the day and roughhousing with his brother was going to do him in.

"I think I'm going to puke… All over you," Danny said lurching over his brother and pretending to wretch.

"Ugh! Get off me, assh— Hi dad!" Will said kicking his brother off his lap.

"What?" Danny said sitting up as Rick crossed in front of the television with a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Oh, hi dad."

"Boys," he said. "Let's go into the study. You're mom's waiting in there for us."

"O-kay," Danny said casting Will a confused look. He wondered if someone had died or was dying. Please Merlin, not that he thought, as they walked through the hallway to their father's study.

It also doubled as the family's library. Bookcases lined the walls and were stocked with a hodgepodge of tomes from paperback novels to grimoires.

Sera had them organized according to the Dewey Decimal System, which was a waste of time in Danny's opinion, when all one needed was _Accio_. So for kicks, he occasionally moved a book or two out of place, but within a day or two she set it right.

The boys immediately noticed that the furniture had been arranged slightly. Another couch had been set across from the comfy reading sofa. Rick gestured for them to sit down across from their mother.

"Hi, mom," Will said walking over to Bev on the couch. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. He was taken aback when she stood up to give him a hug.

"Uh… mom," Will said shifting uncomfortably in his mother's embrace.

She let him go. "I just missed you," she explained.

Danny rolled his eyes at the scene. It had only been three days since they'd all had dinner together. Will always had to play the _good son_ in front of them at least.

How long was he going to have to live in Will's perfect shadow? All the teachers at school were still going on about him except Coach Kornblum, who resented Will's turning down an athletic scholarship, which made him Danny's favorite member of the faculty.

Danny felt the pressure to figure out what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. How was he supposed to decide at sixteen? Whatever he chose it, he was determined that it not be law. Pigs would play Quidditch before that happened.

"Will, Danny," Rick began.

His mouth gaped open without sound and he faltered as though he'd been struck dumb by a hex.

Roderick Fitzgerald Keating, Esquire, his father, the eloquent silver-tongued attorney was speechless. The only other time Danny could remember that happening was when he'd tried to give him and Will the 'talk.'

His father sighed heavily and ran over his face.

"Before, we get into it. I want you to – to try to understand what we did and why we did what we did. What I mean to say is that… your mother and I love you very much," he said. He caught a look of revulsion in Danny's eyes at his old man's 'touchy-feely' tendencies, but forged on. "_We love you_ and we would never hurt either of you intentionally. We did what we thought was best."

"Fourteen years ago," Bev began. "Your father and I took a trip to London. You were five and you were three. And I was six months pregnant. I went into premature labor. And the baby, she – she…" Bev shut her eyes and gripped her husband's hand for him to take over.

"She died," Rick finished for her. "Your sister died."

"No," Will protested. His brows knitted in confusion. "That can't be true. Unless, she was a twin?"

Bev shook her head as the tears began to fall.

"Mom," Danny said and handed her some tissues from the end table.

"Thank you, honey," she said smiling weakly. She wiped her face and tried to regain some composure.

"No," she answered Will. "I didn't have twins. Your sister, Sara – Sara Phoebe died."

"We almost lost your mother too," Rick recounted and felt his heart contract painfully in his chest.

The boys' faces were ashen.

"The day after we buried her, your mom was going to be discharged from the hospital. The Healer came in the papers. She had a newborn baby with her," he said. "Another baby girl."

"The Healer told us that the baby's mother had died giving birth and that her father didn't want to have anything to do with her," Bev recalled. "They were going to send her off to an orphanage. When I held her – I knew we were meant to adopt her – I fell in love with her and we brought her home."

Bev paused to let the boys absorb the heavy revelations.

Danny blinked in disbelief. This was some messed up nightmare, he thought. He must've inhaled some weird fumes from Potions class today and was having a hallucination.

"Sera was adopted," Will stated incredulously.

"Yes," Bev confirmed.

"Why didn't you tell us from the beginning? Instead of passing her off as your own. As if – as if she was our real sister," Will demanded.

"She _is_ your real sister," Rick replied stonily. "In every way that matters most. You were _toddlers, _for Merlin sake, when we brought her home. We thought to tell you when you were all older. When you could all understand."

"We were old enough years ago," Danny interjected.

"You're right, Danny," Bev acknowledged. "But as time went on. It was so much easier not to say anything. We wanted to protect her from feeling unwanted or rejected by her birth family. Can you understand that? How hard it would have been for her if she'd grown up knowing the truth?"

"So you lied," Danny continued to fume. "You lied to us for practically our whole lives. What else are you keeping from us? Am I adopted too?"

"No," Bev said.

"Is Will?"

"NO, Danny. _I_ gave birth to you," she said, "to the both of you. You," she addressed Danny. "You lived in me for over nine months and three days, mister. I was in labor for almost twenty-seven hours. Rebel all you want against us, but I will always be your mother. Just like I will always be Sera's mother."

"And what kind of a mother are you?" Danny raged at her. "So our real sister died and you just brought home a substitute."

"Shut up, Danny!" Will shouted preempting his father's rebuke. "Don't talk to mom like that."

Danny closed his mouth and swallowed not because of Will but because his mother was white as a sheet. She looked like she going to faint.

His father gave her glass of water. She rubbed at her eyes with the wad of tissues Danny had given to her before.

"I can't believe you're on their side," Danny muttered to Will.

"I'm not on their side. I'm pissed about this too. But one lie… even a really big one doesn't erase everything they've done for us," he said.

Danny snickered. "You are such a mama's boy, Willard"

"Fuck you, Daniel," Will replied.

"Oh no, profanity! Is that what they teach you in law school?"

"That's enough, Danny," Rick said. "You too, Will. You're both upset and you have every right to be. But you don't know what it's like to lose a child. To bury one. I hope you never do. So, don't be so quick to condemn us. We were wrong to lie to you. We admit that."

"So why are you telling us now?" Will asked.

"Because we were also lied to," Bev replied. She sniffed at the irony. "Sera's biological mother isn't dead. Her parents never meant to give her up. They were told that she had died in childbirth. They took Sera from them."

"Who would take her and why?" Will interrupted.

"We don't know the exact reason," Rick said. "But we think it was because Sera's birth parents are… Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters!" Will and Danny repeated.

"Damn," Danny added.

"Who exactly are her parents?" Will asked.

"Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange," Rick answered.

"Shit," Will uttered and shook his head. His second obscenity for the night.

"But they'd be in prison," Danny said.

"They broke out," Will explained.

"You knew about this! They told you first," Danny accused.

"No, nimrod. I can read. Pick up a newspaper every once in a while," his brother retorted. "But how did they find out she was alive?"

A thousand questions rallied for Will's attention as he considered the implications of having an adopted sister whose parents were homicidal maniacs on the run from the law.

"We don't know if the Lestranges know, although I suspect that they do," Rick said carefully. It was a bad tactic to assume more than one actually knew. "I was visited by Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. They're Sera's aunt and uncle. They were given legal custody of her before the Lestranges were imprisoned. If the Malfoys decide to challenge us for custody, your mother and I intend to fight them every step of the way. We need you both to support us on this. We need this family to stick together."

Danny stood up. He had to get out of here.

"Where are you going, Danny?" Bev asked.

"Away. Far away from here," he replied striding to the door. It swung open and banged loudly against the wall.

"Wait, Danny. Don't go," his parents entreated him.

Will grabbed him by the shoulder in the hallway.

"Get the hell off me, Will," Danny said his face red with anger.

"Then stop acting like a two year old and listen."

"Will, you have to seriously step off," Danny warned.

"It's time you grew up baby brother," Will said derisively. "Our family is in trouble. Don't you understand that? We can't just let them take Sera away from us."

"Let them!" Danny shouted. "She's not our real sister anyway."

He froze. His mouth gaped open as he saw over Will's shoulder that Sera was standing at the other end of the hallway holding Roscoe's leash. Aunt Lori was right behind her. The door was still open letting in the brisk autumn air.

"Hello Danny," she greeted him in a cheery voice she'd been coached to use in introductions. "Who is not your real sister?"

"Uh-no one," he replied lamely. "Nothing. Oh hell!" He threw up his hands and ran passed them earning two barks from the dog.

"Hello Will. Hello mother. Hello father," she said unperturbed by the outburst. She bent down to at Roscoe. "No barking in the house," she told him firmly.

The white dog whimpered and lowered his head in repentance. His Mistress patted him on the head lightly to let him know that he hadn't really upset her.

Sera noticed that there were several things out of place. Her mother's eyes were red from crying. Her father was not wearing a tie. Will was home on a Tuesday. They were staring at her. They appeared expectant of some reciprocal action, but she did not know what.

"Hello sweetheart," Bev said with a forced smile.

"Hello princess," Rick said. "How was your walk, Lori?"

"It was fine. We bumped into the Tenenbaums, didn't we Ser?" Loretta said.

"Yes. It is sixteen minutes past ten o'clock," she answered.

"Then you're going to be late for bed aren't you," Rick said and cocked his head towards the staircase.

She nodded and took off her other shoe and placed it next to its mate in the cubby-hole before heading up the stairs to her room with Roscoe.

"I think we're going to need tea. Lots of tea," Loretta said once her goddaughter was out of earshot.

* * *

Seraphina had taken a bath, changed into her pajamas, folded and placed her dirty clothes in the hamper, brushed her teeth for five minutes, gargled for a minute and sat attentively on the edge of her bed. Roscoe was curled up on the rug to the left of her bed. His eyes already closed. 

At ten-forty-nine, her father came to the door and informed her that he was too tired to read to her. He was four minutes late, three – subtracting the minute she had lost.

She nodded. There were dark circles beneath his eyes. He had a peculiar expression on his face. She studied it intently as she did not see him often this way and filed the mental photograph away in her mental filing cabinet as Dr. Engels had taught her to do in such situations.

"We'll rejoin Odysseus tomorrow. I promise," he said kissing her on the forehead after tucking the covers up to her chin. "Goodnight, princess."

"Goodnight father," she replied closing her eyes.

* * *

Happy New Year! Two thousand and six. My dad drank my sparkling cider, so I must settle for apple juice. Sorry for the slow update but I had finals. Crazy sadistic finals. 

To **4thBlackSister** - yep, the Lestranges are not taking this lying down.

To **Dayz-n-Passions-luvr** - hope you liked this. Thanks for your faithful reviews.

To **Dancer8428** - thanks for compliment!

To **LMTran** - here's a 4 a.m. chapter :)

**Happy New Year again to all those reading and reviewing. :)**

* * *


	19. Chapter 19 Sibling Rivalry, Part 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. I just play in the sandbox of the J.K.Rowling universe. Please don't sue, because I have neither rubles, nor yen and the dollar is falling.

**Warning: **Violence against a creature of the forest ahead. Please don't read or sue if this upsets you.

**Chapter 19 **

** Sibling Rivalry, Part 2  
**

**

* * *

**

**July 3rd 1990**

Keating Estate, Virginia

Sera followed them as quietly as she could through the forest across a dried out stream. Her brothers were approximately twenty feet away from her. She hid behind a tree and peered out at them from the side. They were crouched over something on the ground.

"Think we killed it?" Danny asked.

"Naw, it's still twitching. But it's a goner for sure," Will diagnosed.

Irrepressible curiosity moved Sera to take a few steps forward to see what they were poking at with their twigs. When she saw the blood, she let out a wild scream alerting them to her presence.

"Shut up, Sera!" Will shouted at her.

"She followed us again!" Danny whined.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Will shouted over her screaming.

Her eyes were fixed on the bloody twitching mass.

Will shook her by the shoulders and in exasperation he slapped her. She stopped out of sheer surprise. He had never done that before.

"That's what you get for following us around all the time," he informed her holding her arm tight in his grip as he wagged a finger in her face. "And you'd better not tattle or else."

With a slight shove she fell to the ground as he let go.

She started rocking herself back and forth hugging her legs and pressing her knees against her chest.

"Oh geez," Danny complained. "She's such a baby."

He was both shocked and impressed by his older brother's use of force. There'd been many a time when he'd wanted to punch his little sister for being so darned annoying. The most he'd done was pinch or kick her when she'd been in the way. Outright hitting was verboten to him.

"Come on, Danny," Will said. "Mike and Jake are waiting for us. We're late."

So the brothers left their youngest sibling to deal with the dying garter snake.

The boys late for supper that night on account of the punishment they expected to be receive upon their return.

They wondered if their parents were attempting to guilt them into a confession, when they were only reprimanded for their tardiness and made to go without dessert. It was only when they were both tucked in that it dawned on them fully that their tag-along brat of a sister hadn't ratted them out.

"I think she changed her clothes," Will said from the top bunk.

"Yeah and she musta washed up too," Danny replied.

They both felt lower than dirt. They knew Sera didn't have any friends in Virginia. It was only at the special school she went to back in New York that anyone her own age paid her any mind. She just didn't understand that brothers couldn't be seen playing with their baby sisters.

The next day they returned to the scene of the crime. Nothing remained of the snake on the walk path. They investigated the site for clues like the junior patrollers they read about in their comic books.

After a thorough search, Danny announced, "She's crazy! Look what she's done!"

Will strode over with his hands in his jean pockets to the foot of an elm tree. It was more than a few feet away from the spot where they had stoned the legless reptile. He wondered how Danny had even discovered it.

There was a small mound of fresh dirt with small pebbles arranged in the shape of the letter 'S'. Will scattered the stones with a quick swipe of his foot, but he left the flowers Sera had tied together with a white hair ribbon.

Over the subsequent days, Will and Danny tried to keep their guilty consciences at bay, except Sera wouldn't let it go. She barely spoke a peep to them, hid herself away in her room, and refused their penitent offerings of candy.

She never followed them into the woods again after that day.

* * *

**Present Day**

**Tuesday, September 27th 1996**

"Lucius," Lord Voldemort addressed him from the head of the table. "I thought you would be loathed to disappoint me yet again. You said you were outraged by the crimes of the Aurors against the Lestranges. And yet you refuse to retrieve their child. Your only niece worth mentioning."

"I would not dare to refuse you anything, my Lord," Malfoy protested. "However, it turns out that the girl is severely ill. She requires almost constant supervision and care. Would it not hurt our cause of the superiority of pureblood if it were revealed that she was of such descent? Not that it is reason for her sickness. She obviously caught something from being surrounded by all those filthy Muggles, but unfortunately there is no cure."

"Do you have anything to say, my dear, Mrs. Malfoy?" Voldemort asked.

"Master, you know I value my blood ties. But there's nothing that can be done about the girl's condition. She's an invalid and she will be one for the rest of her life. How would it look my Lord, for Lucius and me, to become the guardians of some defective child?"

"You take that back, Narcisssa!" Bella shrieked from across the table.

Rodolphus restrained his wife from drawing her wand in front of their Master. It would hopefully keep the Dark Lord from injuring or killing her for such an insult.

"I won't Bella," Narcissa continued. "If she's brought to live with us, they'll say her illness is blood related."

For a moment, Rodolphus considered letting go and allowing Bella to go to town on her sister, but it was the Dark Lord who shut the cow up.

Something akin to a bolt of lightning struck the empty spot between Narcissa's hands on the table. She screamed and held her hands in front of her eyes to be sure all her fingers were still there. The smell of charred wood filled the air. The hex had been strong enough to bore a hole through the three inch thick table. It had been fortunate for Narcissa that she hadn't been sitting with her legs stretched out beneath it.

"I must disagree, Narcissa," the Dark Lord said rising from his throne-like chair with his wand still in hand. His slimy reptilian skin glistened a little in the candlelight of the drawing room.

"After all, the girl's existence is in part my doing. It is distressing that you and your husband find fault with something that I have had a _hand_ in bringing about?" He waved his left hand in a mocking gesture and grinned so that his small jagged teeth could be seen.

"Of course not, my Lord," Narcissa choked out.

Through her mask, he could see that her ice-blue eyes were wild with fear. She clasped her hands in her lap.

"It should have been obvious to you – and to you all that the young Miss Lestrange's condition is a byproduct of her exposure to Dementors, while still in the womb. I have spoken with them. They've expressed regret, but they cannot help what it is in their nature. One would sooner fault a bee for stinging. Their role as security guards was commanded by the Aurors. Therefore, it is they who will be blamed and punished accordingly," he said as he rounded the table at a steady pace. "So you see, Narcissa, the public will sympathize with you and Lucius. They will see your compassion for your niece, a child who has suffered at the hands of those sworn to protect the innocent. Why you know," he said wistfully mid-tirade. "I almost consider myself to be the child's godfather. What do you think, Rodolphus?" the Dark Lord asked stopping just behind the man.

Rodolphus stood and bowed reverently, "It would be the highest honor, Master."

Lord Voldemort nodded his bald skull.

"But you said, I –" Rabastan began to whisper, when the Dark Lord had stepped away.

A swift kick from Bellatrix quickly silenced her brother-in-law as the former-godfather, when her husband retook his seat. She reached for Rodolphus' hand and he squeezed it gently in return. Bella flashed her sister a smirk of triumph.

"Good, then it is settled," the Dark Lord moved to take his seat again. "From this night forward, I shall be the godfather of Miss Seraphina Lestrange. Oh, come now Nagini," he called to his snake, which slithered into his lap.

"Do not be jealous. It is appropriate. Were you aware Bella that your daughter's name means more than the Hebrew for angels?

"No, my Lord," she answered in surprise.

"It comes from an older derivation for _fiery serpent_," he informed her. "I think we can safely say that she is fated to rejoin our family, despite the slippery intentions of some," he said caressing the top of Nagini's head.

* * *

**Wednesday, September 28th 1996**

Meeting of the Order of the Phoenix**  
**

"The Malfoys have obtained a subpoena for a blood test, which will be carried out in two days. After which, they will sue for custody and win," Severus said matter-of-factly.

"Snape can tell the future," Sirius snickered. "Been having a go at Trelawney?"

"Oy!" Tonks rebuked making a face of disgust that didn't require the use of her abilities.

"Severus is trying to deliver a report. "If you cannot control yourself, then you may be excused, Sirius," Dumbledore chided the grown man.

Sirius rolled his eyes and crossed his hands over his chest in a sulk.

Remus noted that Severus was too preoccupied to be smug about the headmaster treating his arch nemesis like a mischievous schoolboy.

"Even Longbottom could deduce that the Malfoys have the best legal claim," Severus continued. "Podmore's been given heavy doses of Remorsum. The damage he's done to his liver over the past few decades will make it undetectable. They've had Travers Obliviate the past weeks from his mind and replaced them with memories of drinking and debauchery. Podmore will arrive at the Auror Headquarters crying out his confession as to his part in the conspiracy. After which, he will drop dead, but not before he sells out the last member of the pact… Chief Auror Allan McCalister."

"No!" Shacklebolt shouted. "That's a lie. That's a bloody lie."

"Allan wouldn't have done," Arthur Weasley joined in the objection.

"Memories don't lie," Severus replied. "Unaltered ones at least," he amended. "To his credit McCalister stopped Podmore from murdering the girl. All he wanted was to send her off to a Ukrainian Muggle orphanage arranged with the help of Barty Crouch senior."

"She'd been better off there than with the Malfoys," Sirius said.

"Oh, you think so," Severus said silkily. "The orphanage burned to the ground with no survivors. She would have been all of two years old at the time. And in case Azkaban has completely addled what passes for your mind, she is your first cousin once removed."

Remus winced inwardly for his friend who had obviously not considered the familial connection.

"So Podmore and McCallister get their just desserts," Sirius said redirecting the conversation and sitting up straighter. "Why's Voldie getting his knickers in a twist over this?"

"Because he's launching a propaganda campaign," Severus disclosed. "The Carrows are eager to convince the Dark Lord of their renewed loyalty and as owners of the _Daily Prophet_ they'll be sending out Rita Skeeter to cover the trial from the point of view of the Malfoys. They will be the wronged pureblood family. The Aurors will be painted as brutal corrupted officers of the law who would subject an infant to the ravages of the Dementors. The Ministry as a whole will be discredited. Its authority undermined. It's obvious to the discerning mind that the Dark Lord is molding public opinion to his liking – making it ripe for his ascension. And no doubt the Wizarding Wireless Network will join in on the media feast."

"Merlin's beard," Moody said pounding his flask on the table. "It'll demoralize the entire Corps."

* * *

**Wednesday, September 28th, 1996**

Keating Residence, NYC

"Is being adopted bad?" Sera asked kicking her feet against the bottom of the sofa.

"No, it's not bad," Rick explained holding her hand. His daughter's head was turned away from him "Look at me, Sera," he said gently pointing at both of her eyes with two fingers to his own.

Sera complied reluctantly. Father and mother had fibbed to her and she should be angry with them, but when she looked at them the sad inside of them could not be ignored.

"We love you," he said. Two drops of water came out of the corners of his eyes. The sad was leaking out and wetting his cheek. It stained the collar of his light blue buttoned shirt.

"I love you, too," Sera replied and forced herself to confront the sad in his light blue eyes brimming with water.

He hugged her tightly against him and her mother joined in.

Sera felt squashed between the two, but did not say so. She would rather the sad went away.

* * *

Author's Notes:

To **Poppycan**: sorry for uh... boring you. hope you enjoy this chapter more than the first sixteen of them.

To **LMTran**: here's a 7:53 am. i couldn't sleep at all. your comment about the nature and nurture being 50/50 has really helped me in developing the characters. THANKS!

To **dancer8428**: enjoy :)

To **Jessica**: you'll be in suspense for a little while longer. prepare yourself for one of the biggest twists in the story though.

Thanks to all who read and review.


	20. Chapter 20 Trial by Fire, Part 1

**Chapter 20 – Trial by Fire, Part 1**

**Friday, September 30th, 1996**

Ms. Rivera sipped her coffee blissfully. It was made from freshly grinded coffee beans of her native country, Columbia. It was not for the weak. She of course, drank it hot and black.

The News Owl pecked impatiently on the kitchen window with its curved beak.

Ms. Rivera opened the fifth floor window, took the paper from the bird's talons and closed the window.

"Thanks for breakfast, Ms. Rivera," Danny said gratefully as he sat down at the table and speared two strips of bacon at once.

"Gracias, mama," Carlos said following suit and elbowed his best friend lightly. "You're making me look bad Daniel."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Acne's a part of – "

"Danny, you have to go home," Ms. Rivera's stern voice cut in, before he could finish the jibe.

"Mom!" Carlos protested.

"Did I do some—, " Danny started to say.

Ms. Rivera presented him with the front page of the _New York Wizarding Times_.

The fork fell out of the boy's hand and clattered on the plate as he read the headlines.

* * *

**KIDNAPPED BABY FOUND AFTER 14 YEARS**

Yesterday afternoon, British Auror Sturgis Podmore, arrived at his workplace the headquarters of the Department of Law Enforcement, in an inebriated state. Podmore, to the bewilderment of his colleagues, stood on top of his desk and drunkenly gloated about his past crimes. He died soon after, as a result of breaching the terms of the Unbreakable Pact he had entered into with his fellow conspirators, who he named as: the deceased Bartemius Crouch, Sr., formerly the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation; the Auror Duncan Galway, missing since July; and Alan Oscar McCalister, the former Chief Auror, arrested yesterday evening. _(see page A3 for details of the arrest of McCalister and the search for Auror Galway, his accomplice)_

Allegedly, fourteen years ago, the four Ministry officials sought revenge on the Death Eaters Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix Lestrange, who were given life sentences to Azkaban prison for their part in the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom. In a bargain struck for humanitarian reasons, Mrs. Lestrange was quarantined in St. Mungo's for the duration of her pregnancy before her lifetime imprisonment was to begin.

On May first of 1982, she went into labor and delivered a healthy infant girl. Crouch, Galway, McCalister and Podmore successfully kidnapped the baby immediately following her birth and inform the new mother and father that their child had died.

These shocking revelations have rocked the foundations of the British Ministry of Magic as it struggles to explain how such abuses of power had gone undetected for so long within its very own headquarters.

By a twist of fate, the Lestrange baby was adopted by a visiting American couple. The distinguished attorney, Roderick Keating, Esq. and his wife, Beverly von Rothschild Keating, artist and museum curator, adopted the infant girl, naming her Seraphina Bianca and raised her alongside their biological sons, Willard Robert, 19, pre-law university student and Daniel Evan, 16, a high school student.

British citizens Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy née Black, in collaboration with the British Ministry of Magic have contacted the Wizarding Court of Justice of New York to request the return of their niece, Seraphina Keating, as her true legal guardians and blood kin.

"Fourteen years ago, Lucius and I promised my sister and brother-in-law that we would take care of their baby. I can't describe the grief, Lucius and I went through when we were told that the little girl had died at childbirth," said Mrs. Malfoy, as she wiped a tear from her eye.

"It is outrageous. This crime has been committed not only against my family but all noble families. What sort of Aurors is the Ministry employing? How can the public rest safely knowing what sort of vigilante Wizards are policing the streets?" said Lucius Malfoy, speaking from his Wiltshire Mansion. "And now we've lost fourteen years to watch our beloved niece grow up. While we are grateful to her foster parents, it's time our niece came home to us – to her real family."

The Keating family could not be reached for comment.

Danny threw down the paper and ran home to find it besieged by reporters and photographers.

* * *

**Monday, October 1st 1996**

Superior Wizarding Court of Justice

"Your Honors," Conroy Maddox, Esquire, a smarmy Wizard with slicked dark brown hair, greeted the three red robed judges appointed by the International Confederation of Wizards. "Quite frankly, this trial is a waste of your Honors' valuable time. My clients, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were awarded legal custody of the minor known as Seraphina Bianca Keating by her natural parents. I will present the court with irrefutable evidence to this fact in the form of legal documents agreed to by the ICW itself. Narcissa Malfoy, the sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, is the biological aunt of the girl as proven by the blood tests conducted five days ago. There is no legal basis whatsoever for the Keatings to contest the legal guardianship held solely by the Malfoys."

Maddox seated himself adjusting his expensive barrister robes as he cast an arrogant smirk at the defense's attorney, Benjamin Bailey.

"Your Honors," the tall dark-skinned man rose from his seat to address the court. "Roderick and Beverly Keating do not challenge the legal claims of the Malfoys. They ask that we consider not only the law but what is in Seraphina's best interests. We ought not to follow laws blindly, for what good are they to us if they only cause more injustice. As practitioners of the law, we know from experience that the justice system is imperfect and sometimes it is those we are meant to protect who are harmed the most.

"Children are minors in the eyes of the law. Their rights are diminished because of their lack of years and experience, so their liberties are held in trust by their parents or guardians. And in Seraphina's case, her situation is even more precarious. As the court is already aware, Sera suffers from a rare disease known as Asperger's Syndrome. She has very specific needs that are met by the Keatings and will be irreparably traumatized if she is removed from the only home and family she has ever known."

The three judges looked over to the left at the Keating family. They were a handsome group like the photo that came with a newly purchased wallet. Rick and Bev sat at the defense table. Their sons and two older women sat just behind them in the gallery. Sera, the raven haired girl, sat between Aunt Lori and Will. Although the proceedings concerned her fate and future she seemed disinterested and was studying one of the portraits of past justices that hung along the walls.

"You may present your first witness, Mr. Bailey," Judge Marshall said, to the dismay of the Malfoys and Maddox, who had hoped the case would be dismissed entirely.

Bailey nodded. "I call to the stand, Dr. Elaine Engels, head of the cognitive neurology center for children."

After establishing the woman's educational background and medical credentials, Bailey began to focus his questioning on the nature of Sera's condition.

"Dr. Engels, you were the first to offer the diagnosis of high-functioning autism in Sera. What was your criterion?" Bailey asked.

"Sera presented several of the major behavior characteristics of Asperger's syndrome. She's impaired in social interaction and communication. She has difficulty understanding facial expressions and body language that are learned intuitively by other children. She's prone to repetitive and obsessive behaviors. However, she's also atypical of most sufferers of Asperger's. You must understand that the overwhelming majority of patients are men and secondly, Sera is a witch and there are only a handful of autistic mages in the world though many more in the Muggle world."

"There have been rumors circulating, doctor that this illness is contagious. Is there any truth to that? Could Sera have caught the illness from coming into contact with an autistic person?"

"No, there is none. It's a ridiculous conjecture with no scientific justification whatsoever. While the cause of autism remains a mystery, we do know that it cannot be transmitted from one person to another like the common cold or dragon pox," Engels responded emphatically.

"How did you confirm your diagnosis, Dr. Engels?"

"We performed a MRI scan and later a PET scan of Sera's brain. It's like taking an x-ray of her mind for lack of a better analogy. Initially it was to eliminate the chance that a brain tumor was the cause of her illness. Instead we found certain abnormalities in her brain chemistry, specifically in the frontal lobe, which is concerned with reasoning, planning, parts of speech and movement, emotions and problem-solving. Sera has significantly higher prefrontal lobe concentrations of metabolites, in particular acetylaspartate, which scientists have correlated with obsessive behavior and choline correlated with social impairment."

"Bottom line doctor, what in your professional opinion would happen if Seraphina was taken at this very moment from the Keatings?" Bailey asked.

"It would be detrimental to Seraphina's well-being. Sera gravitates toward order and routine, which has been established within the Keating household over years of adjustment. Sera follows a specific schedule to the very minute and second of the day as to when to wake, eat, play, learn, sleep. Deviation from that agitates her. She equates change with disorder and chaos. The Keatings, Bev, Rick Loretta, Will and Danny, they understand and accept her idiosyncrasies. Her need to cut her meatloaf into ten squares, before she can eat it, or to drink a specific brand of orange juice… these are more than preferences for her; it's her way of making sense of the world." Engels explained.

"But she seems fine now, Dr. Engels," Bailey pointed out. "Surely, being in this courtroom is not part of her normal routine."

"It's been explained to her the importance of enduring this trial. She understands what's at stake. She knows what sort of behavior is being asked of her and she's trying her best to adapt. I can't read her mind, Mr. Bailey, but I think it must be taking a toll on her. You don't know how much progress she's made to endure something like this. I fear that she'll regress back to former problematic behaviors, that we've worked so hard to combat," Engel explained passionately. Her face was flushed and had lost its professional coldness.

"Thank you for you time, doctor. The defense has no more questions for this witness," Bailey said returning to his seat next to Rick at the defense table.

Maddox made his way to the witness stand, "Dr. Engels, you're not a Healer are you?" he asked.

"No, I am a doctor," she answered frostily.

"Is this out of your preference for the Muggle world or is it because you are in fact a _SQUIB_?"

Engels couldn't help but roll her eyes, "I find the term 'squib' derogatory, but yes, I have no magical abilities though I was born to a wizard and witch."

"I see. Did the Keatings try to bring Seraphina to see any legitimate Healers?" Maddox questioned.

"Yes, Sera was examined by several esteemed Healers from around the world as I understand. They told the Keatings that their daughter was mentally retarded," she answered.

"But you offered a different diagnosis. It must have been quite the coup. You a squib doctor one-upping the Healers with the first diagnosis of Asperger's syndrome in a witch. You've even published a journal article based on your research and observation of Seraphina, haven't you?" Maddox asked.

"Yes, it was based on other patients as well," Engels said defensively.

"But no one quite as interesting as her," he picked up a magazine from the plaintiff table. "I believe you gave each patient you wrote about a pseudonym. Is that correct?"

"Yes, to protect their identities."

"Tina is the name you gave to Seraphina. Is that right?"

"Yes," she said with a deep breath.

"Would you read the highlighted portion please?" Maddox said handing her the journal.

Engels scanned the marked passage and frowned. With a heavy sigh, she began to read, 'Most problematic in the education of Tina has been in the magical arts. Whilst other children have difficulty concentrating energies, Tina with her mono-tropic focus exerts excess force. In an experiment with levitating charms, she was asked to lift a penny into the air. The penny traveled across the room with such velocity that it became embedded into the solid brick wall. After much deliberation, her parents have binded her magic to such time as she is able to control her abilities.'

There was a collective gasp and murmuring from the galley.

"This is being read out of context," Engels protested. "This article is from four years ago. The spells have been removed gradually as she learns to control her magic better. She could be a danger to herself and others."

"I believe that is what Muggles say of Wizards. We're dangerous beings who can't be trusted with such extraordinary powers. How strangely you echo their sentiments, doctor," Maddox pointed out. "Are you jealous of Sera's abilities? So jealous, of those with magic, that you encouraged her foster parents to dampen her abilities?"

"That's absurd!" Engels cried out.

Maddox shrugged his shoulders. "Who can fathom the frustrated psyche of a squib? An outcast of both Wizarding and Muggle society. I have no more questions for this witness, your Honors."

"Witness is dismissed," said Judge Winters. "Call your next witness, Mr. Bailey."

* * *

Author's Notes: 

To **LMTran**: Right on the money with your comments! What would I do without your reviews? I shudder to imagine.

To **Jessica**: the twist is coming... dundundah

To **dancer8428**: Another chapter... enjoy :)

To **ShyOrangette**: Hope you've caught up in your reading.

THANKS to all who read and review.

* * *


	21. Chapter 21 Trial by Fire, Part 2

**Chapter 21**

**Trial by Fire, Part 2**

**

* * *

**

**Wednesday, June 20th 1991**

"This isn't possible," said the pale-blond man. "This just isn't. Are you sure? Are you sure this is hers?"

"Yes, this is _my__daughter's_ notebook," Beverly said narrowing her hazel eyes at the man.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his wire-rimmed glasses and continued to pace about the room. He turned to face her again. "Could your daughter have copied it from somewhere else? Is there someone in your family or a friend who's an advanced arithmancer?" he prodded and paused in his pacing and gave her a-once-over. "If this is your work…"

"No to all of the above," she answered. "I came here because I wanted to see if you could suggest a tutor for my daughter just as I told your secretary. Dr. Engels recommended that I bring one of Sera's notebooks to give you an idea of what she's been doing so far. What I didn't come here for was to be accused of lying."

She stood up and reached to take the black-and-white notebook from off the man's impeccably organized desk. The grade school composition book clashed terribly with his pompous décor.

"No!" he cried out and practically lunged for the thing with both hands. "This is –" He swallowed for air and his face flushed pink at the embarrassing display. "I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Keating for my behavior." He tugged at his tie with one hand. "_This is_ phenomenal work for someone of any age, but to believe a nine-year-old child could produce something this like this is inconceivable."

He read the disbelief in the woman's finely arched eyebrow and sat down with a plop.

"You don't know what this is, do you?" He readjusted his tie and sat down turning the pages at an angle so that she could see as well.

"I know that it's my daughter's notebook, which she purchased three of for ninety-nine cents," she informed him peevishly.

"_Three for ninety-nine cents_," he repeated with a chuckle.

He turned the pages with the carefulness of a monk with a Gutenberg Bible.

"It starts here," he said pointing at one of the beginning pages.

It was marked with numbers interspersed with italicized letters and a plethora of mathematical mumbo jumbo.

"Is it some sort of math problem?" she asked. Her comprehension of arithmancy ended with algebra.

"Yes and no," he replied. "It's an equation, but more importantly I think its part of a larger proof." He flipped through the pages hoping to come across a concluding statement that would explain, but it seemed the author had gotten stuck midpoint. A whole page full of penciled in dots was followed by nothing but blank pages.

He went back to the page of dots. His eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he studied it. Perhaps he was wrong. He needed time to read through the book and analyze its coherence, but maybe the girl was a savant. She might not even realize what she had even written. Elaine Engels worked with children with diminished capacities, so it wasn't such an unlikely guess.

"It's an optical illusion," Beverly told him. "Hold it further away and focus your attention on the center of the page." She leaned back in her seat and smoothed out the wrinkles in her gray business skirt.

Norstadt struck an amusing pose with one hand holding the notebook at arms length squinting his eyes in concentration. The dots on the page intersected in the center in a manner different from those on the rest of the page and then finally he saw it. He looked away and back again to be sure.

"Oh – Wow," he said stunned. "Her pet?"

Beverly smiled and said, "Yes, but Sera thinks of him – Roscoe, as more of a companion. She tried to convince us that he should sit next to her at the dining table and be given his own chair as an equal member of the family."

"How uh… cute," he remarked rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. "I uh… I'd like to meet her, Mrs. Keating," he said. "It would help me suggest some appropriate candidates."

They conferred schedules and set up a meeting for three days later in Norstadt's office.

Eugene Norstadt had prepared some questions for Seraphina to see if she was a fake who'd been coached by her parents. He noted that she'd only been allowed to take the Stanford-Binet Intelligence Quotient Test, which any overzealous parent could obtain the answers and force-feed to their child, so her extraordinary test results only made him more skeptical. Most suspect of all was the strange illness the girl was said to be suffering from.

He was only vaguely familiar with autism and from the data he'd been able to gather Seraphina didn't quite fit the profile completely. To top it off the Keatings refused to let him met with their daughter one-to-one. Either they were overprotective or they wanted to perpetuate some sort of hoax. Money wasn't the motive though. His background check into their finances made him envious even though he himself made a six figure salary. Although both Mr. and Mrs. Keating worked neither of them needed to. They were set for this life and the next.

His secretary announced the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Keating and their daughter. Eugene immediately noted that she was tall for her age and consciously avoided eye-to-eye contact as they made their formal introductions to each other.

Eugene removed a small stack white cards from a drawer and straightened them on the desktop.

"Mr. and Mrs. Keating, I've read through your daughter's file and it doesn't give a full picture of her capabilities. May I ask why you haven't had her tested any further?"

"We didn't see the need for it," Rick answered.

"We know she's bright," Bev added.

"How do you feel about being tested, Seraphina?" Eugene asked.

"I feel fine," she answered.

He arched an eyebrow unsure if she had been following the conversation. Her eyes wandered over the various objects in the room: his framed diplomas and various antiques placed tastefully around the room.

"I've uh… prepared," he gestured with the stack of cards some questions to get a range of her abilities. "Some questions for you. Just some silly math problems. If you don't know the answer you can pass and we'll just move on."

There was an awkward pause as he waited for some reply from her.

"Alright, let's begin. How many minutes are there in forty-eight years?" he read off the card.

"There is not sufficient information for me to give an accurate answer," she replied.

"You mean you don't know," he said leaning slightly forward.

"I cannot answer the question from the information you have given," she said. Her head was tilted oddly slightly to the left. She looked at him from the periphery of her eyes.

"What is the question lacking? It seems quite clear," he said. This was a waste of time. The girl was stalling for time.

"Sera, it's alright if you don't know the answer," Rick placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "Look at Mr. Norstadt when he's speaking to you,' he said pointing from her eyes to the other man.

Sera nodded.

She made eye contact with Norstadt for the first time since entering the room and clarified her claim, "I cannot give an answer if the start year is unknown," she said implacably.

"How could that possibly matter?" Eugene asked annoyed at her impertinence.

"Leap years must be taken into account," she said.

"_Leap years_," Eugene repeated. "Hmph. Well, obviously, disregard them for now and calculate the number of minutes in 48 years which all consist of 365 days."

"25 million, 228 thousand and 800 minutes."

"That's correct. How many seconds?"

"153 million 728 thousand seconds."

She kicked her feet beneath her each time she answered. Eugene wondered if she was somehow receiving the solutions that way until Mrs. Keating, told her to stop as it wasn't polite. That's when he noticed the girl's thick white wool stockings. She was wearing an inordinate amount of clothing and hadn't even taken off her heavy navy blue pea coat.

He flipped to the next card. "How many factors are there in the number 3607?"

"There are no factors in the number 3607," she answered unphased by the trick question.

"Why not?" he asked.

"The number is prime."

"Very good," he said.

Her computation was superb, but he'd seen others do the same. The work in the notebook was more than number crunching.

He flipped through the cards for the one he'd marked with an asterisk.

"What number has the peculiarities that if its cube were added to five times its square and from the result 42 times the number and 40 is subtracted the remainder is nothing?"

She paused for the span of nine seconds before answering, "Five."

"Correct," he said looking up from the cards and opening his desk drawer again. "Last question. Could you explain what this is?" He took out the notebook and handed it back to her.

"This is my composition book," she said.

"Yes. And can you explain to me what you supposedly wrote inside it? Is this a proof?"

"Yes, I can explain. Yes, it is a proof."

"And could you please explain it?" he asked ignoring the heavy sigh from Mrs. Keating.

"It is my attempt to prove the Poincaré conjecture," she said kicking her legs against the chair again.

"You're trying to solve a century's old problem no one else has been able to?"

"No, the problem is only ninety-one-year-old," the little girl countered.

Eugene Norstadt laughed. "I stand corrected in more ways than one. Mr. and Mrs. Keating, you're daughter is a genius."

"So this means you'll supply us with a list of suitable teachers?" Rick said shifting in his seat. "Now that you've determined that my daughter isn't some sort of fraud."

"Who has she been studying under?" Norstadt asked.

"Mrs. Hamilton tutored Sera till she passed her O.W.L.S., but she retired over a month ago," Bev answered. "Sera's been working out of some textbooks we purchased at the bookstore, but she asked us to find someone to teach her more than she can learn out of a book. We asked Dr. Engels and she suggested that we see you."

"Why didn't Elaine send you to me sooner?" he lamented. "So much time wasted. Well, no matter," he thought aloud. "I'm sure with a few calls there'll be no problem."

"Calls to whom?" Rick asked.

"To colleges, universities…. The girl doesn't need a tutor. She needs the whole academic world," Norstadt exclaimed.

"No, she doesn't," Bev protested.

"I don't think I understand," he said, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "When I said your daughter was a genius I meant it. More tests will have to be administered for more formal confirmation, but she needs more than any single tutor can provide."

"We don't want our daughter to become a curiosity," Rick elaborated. "A little girl in a college classroom is obviously going to draw stares."

Norstadt nodded in understanding, "I think something can be arranged."

* * *

**Monday, October 1st 1996**

Superior Wizarding Court of Justice

"Mrs. Delamare, you are Seraphina's godmother?" Maddox asked pacing in front of the witness stand.

Loretta sat erect her graying auburn hair tucked in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. "Yes, I am," she answered.

"You spend a great deal of time with your goddaughter do you not?" the smarmy lawyer questioned.

"Yes," Loretta confirmed, wishing he'd get to the point.

"And you are a _MUGGLE_, are you _not_?"

And there it 'tis, she thought. "Yes, I am a Muggle," she replied sans emphasis.

"So you admit it!" Maddox accused.

"Objection your Honors, Councilor is badgering my witness," Bailey said standing up to address the court.

"Objection sustained," Judge Weinfelder, a hawk-nosed German declared. "Mr. Maddox, please conduct your cross-examination without such theatrics."

"I apologize, your Honor," Maddox replied, bowing in mock contrition. "I am merely amazed that someone without any magical abilities should be appointed to look after a witch-child. I have no more questions for this witness."

"Permission to redirect questioning," Bailey requested with a heavy sigh as he approached the stand. He pulled on his gray suit jacket and clasped his hands beside his back.

"Permission granted," Judge Marshall responded with a grim expression.

"Mrs. Delamare," Bailey addressed her with a polite but serious smile. "Could you once again for the record state your professional credentials?"

"I earned my Bachelor of Arts in the English Language and Literature at the University of Limerick and my doctorate in Mythology and Folklore at Yale University. I teach a class or two at the University of New York as professor emeritus," she stated succinctly.

"So you're more than qualified to handle a precocious fourteen year old?"

"I should think so," Loretta said knowingly.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

To **LMTran**: You are so right about adding in some atmosphere and imagery. I'm battling the cold / flu I don't know which except it requires a lot of Day and NightQuil. But I thought I'd knock away a few chapters as I'm homebound. I love watching Law&Order, but its hard to write a trial scene... I'll keep trying. Thanks for the input. You always give me such awesomely constructive reviews.

To **Jessica**: Another update for you!

THANKS to all who read and review. 


	22. Chapter 22 Trial by Fire, Part 3

Chapter 22 ** Trial by Fire, Part 3**

**

* * *

_"All sides in a trial want to hide at least some of the truth."_**

** -**Alan M Dershowitz, Professor of Law, Harvard

* * *

**Tuesday, October 2nd 1996**

Superior Wizarding Court of Justice, NYC

It was a different view from the witness stand, Bev thought as she sat down. From here, she could survey the annoying press cameras in the far back, the dict-a-quills furiously scribbling down every exaggerated detail, and the microphones of the Wizarding Wireless Network. Those vultures had driven the Keatings from New York to Virginia. All Bev wanted was for life to return to normal, but there wasn't a Time-Turner large enough to right all the wrongs that had been done. And it proved true that although she was done with the past… the past wasn't done with her. It had a way of kicking down the door to the present.

"Mrs. Keating, you had a most unfortunate miscarriage on April 30th of 1982. Is that correct?" Maddox asked in a sympathetic manner.

"Yes, I did," Bev answered stonily.

"And you adopted, or so you thought, Seraphina two days later?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm…," Maddox said as he tapped his double chin in deep thought. "You know some might say that two days is a short period to grieve for the death of a child."

"I've never stopped grieving for the child that I lost. I love Sara Phoebe," Bev replied strongly, her voice carrying to the far back of the room. "Just as I love my daughter, Sera."

"Sara Phoebe and Seraphina are rather similar names," Maddox pointed out. "Did you adopt the latter to substitute the former?"

There was murmuring from the galley. Wizards and witches turned their heads to confer with one another on yet another development in the case that had captured the attention of the public.

"No," Bev responded firmly and silently thanked Merlin; Bailey had prepped her for this line of questioning. It kept her wringing Maddox by his thick short neck.

"Sara was the name of your mother and Phoebe the name of your sister. Phoebe was murdered, some believe in connection with your father, Anselm von Rothschild's business dealings. Your mother, committed suicide soon after," Maddox informed the court soberly. "Tell me, did you ever receive emotional counseling?"

"Yes," she said without shame, "I was seventeen the year it all happened and I saw the school psychologist." She returned her gaze to catch Rick's eyes gaining strength from him. He was her anchor.

"So you were emotionally unstable," Maddox concluded.

"No, I simply found someone to talk to during a difficult time," Bev replied.

"And you were never afraid that your father's unsavory business partners might seek retribution against you as well and perhaps your family?" Maddox pushed.

"My relationship with my father is not on trial here. We have been estranged for the past twenty years," she told him, her hazel eyes boring holes through his pock marked face.

"Forgive me," Maddox said clasping his hands together. "I seem to have touched a sore spot. Obviously the mental stability of the girl's foster mother has no bearing on the child's welfare," he finished sarcastically.

More mutterings from the courtroom audiences and the bright flashes of camera bulbs went off.

* * *

"Mr. Keating, you and Mr. Bailey are partners of a distinguished firm founded by your father, is that correct?" Maddox asked.

"Yes that's right," Rick acknowledged.

"You have a rather diverse clientele I must say. Werewolves, vampires, centaurs, merpeople, goblins… why the list of creatures just goes on endlessly, it seems. Tell me, do you ever bring your clients into your home?"

Rick could see where Maddox was heading and tried his best to minimize the perceived damage. "Yes, I have on occasion invited my friends or clients over to my home for dinner," he replied nonplussed.

"You bring _these_ people… _these beasts_ into your home. You expose your wife and children to them," Maddox said disgusted.

"I would remind you Mr. Maddox, as one lawyer to another, that these people have the same rights as you or I do," Rick said sitting up in his seat to narrow his ice-blue eyes at the shorter man.

"And they even have the right to teach your daughter! Do you deny that you once employed a vampiress as tutor!" Maddox exclaimed loudly to the shock of the courtroom audience, which collectively gasped and murmured.

Rick felt like he was sitting through a bad play.

"I hired Ms. Lamia because she is an accomplished musician. She came highly recommended and taught Sera how to play the cello. I might add that Ms. Lamia is now touring with the Weird Sisters," he retorted, his handsome features strained at the obvious bigotry of Maddox's remarks.

Maddox paced for a moment his hands clasped behind his back. He pulled on his black barrister robes to straighten them and looked up at Rick contemplating his next move.

"Mr. Keating, at what level of musicianship is Sera at?" he asked.

Rick arched one of his eyebrows in confusion, wondering what the smarmy attorney was getting at now.

"She plays very well, I think, but then again, I am her father."

Chuckles emanated from the galley.

Maddox frowned at this.

"Then you should be well aware that Sera plays both the cello and piano at competition level, but that she's never been allowed to give a public recital. And why is that Mr. Keating? Are you afraid of your foster daughter outshining you or your natural born sons?"

Rick clenched his jaw in an attempt to rein in his natural response, which would've been to throttle Maddox with his bare hands in front of the news photographers and reporters. He took a deep breathe before responding in a cool collected manner.

"Your accusation is preposterous. We asked Sera if she wanted to play in front of others, but she said no. It is her choice to make. We certainly don't want to force her into the spotlight if she does not want to be there. I love Sera every bit as much as I love Will and Danny. My children are all outstanding individuals. They take after their mother, in that respect," he said finishing with a smile.

* * *

**Wednesday, October 3rd 1996**

Superior Wizarding Court of Justice, NYC

Danny shifted uncomfortably in the wooden seat and tugged at his blue pinstriped tie. He hated having to wear a constraining three-piece suit and robes.

Maddox had given Will a pretty easy time earlier and Danny hoped for the same kid-glove treatment. Then again, Maddox probably hadn't been able to dig up any dirt on Will, who was after all perfect. So, Danny steeled himself for the worse.

"Daniel Evan Keating," Maddox addressed the brown haired boy. "You ran away from home recently."

"Yeah."

"And why did you runaway?"

"I was upset, because my parents had just told me about my sister being adopted. That's all," Danny answered plainly.

"They hadn't told this to you before?"

"No."

"They lied to you, Daniel. For fourteen years they lied to you, your brother, your aunt and grandmother – Your parents lied to the people who were closest to them. Not to mention all of their friends and associates. That's a lot of people, Daniel, don't you think?"

"Yes, well. They had good reason to," he said lamely.

"So, this is the sort of morality you've learnt from them? It's alright to lie?"

"No," Danny protested. "They apologized. Mom and dad – they're sorry – they just wanted was best for us."

"It must be difficult for you Daniel. Your elder brother Willard is the first in his class as well as a remarkable athlete. Your sister is a child prodigy in math and music. And what do you have to set you apart?"

"Objection your Honors," Bailey said standing up quickly. "Mr. Maddox is once again badgering one of my witnesses."

"Objection sustained, Mr. Bailey," said the always grim faced, Judge Marshall. "Mr. Maddox, please keep your questions to the point."

"Yes, of course, your Honor," Maddox said. He turned to face the witness stand once again in an abrupt twirl that set his robes fluttering at the hem, and in a raised voice asked, "Danny is it true that most of your friends aren't even aware that you have a younger sister?"

"No," he denied.

"Oh really," said Mr. Maddox.

He crossed make over to the plaintiff's table where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy sat with matching smirks. Today Lucius was dressed in black and forest green robes. His trademark serpent-headed cane rested against the back of the wooden barricade separating the courtroom spectators from the participants. Narcissa wore colors matching her husband. The dark colors contrasted their fair features. On the table before them was an peacock feathered dict-a-quill rapidly taking notes on a legal pad and a two-day-old copy of the _Daily Prophet_, which Maddox picked up and held for all to see, before casting it in front of Danny.

"Rita Skeeter, a respected journalist, interviewed your friend, a Carl Riviera, as saying quote, 'I never knew Danny had a little sister and I've known him for years,' unquote. Isn't Carl Riviera your best friend?"

"I can honestly say that Carl Riviera is not my best friend," Danny answered. "My best friend is Carlos Rivera and if Rita Skeeter can't get his name right than she might not be the best source of information."

* * *

The Keatings flooed home with heavy hearts. They felt more discombobulated from their interrogations than the journey.

"I can't believe you didn't tell your friends you have a sister," Will lamented again.

"Look, it just never came up. You're so freakin' perfect, the teachers are still talking about you even after you graduated," Danny said defensively. "I couldn't get in a word that I had a genius for a sister too."

"That's enough boys," Rick interrupted. "Your mom and I have a big enough headache."

"Do you think we could really lose Rick?" Bev asked worriedly.

"It's possible," he admitted reluctantly. "We're doing all that we can Bev. That's all anyone can ask of us."

"What if it's not enough?" Bev asked gloomily.

* * *

It was six fifteen in the evening. Seraphina went to take Roscoe for a walk around the Virginian estate along the river. The browning leaves crunched underneath her black leather boots. Roscoe enjoyed the freedom of roaming without a leash, but Sera still cleaned up after him with an Evanesco wand.

The chill winds were no match for Roscoe's double-coat of hairs, which had evolved in his breed, the Siberian Husky to combat Artic climates. His owner was not so lucky. He noticed her shivering as she sat down on a large boulder to rest. She ran blue-finger tipped hands through his snow-white fur. He put his head in her lap to keep her warm. She should have worn her gloves.

Roscoe had known since he was a young pup that Sera was different from the other humans in the house. She was not intemperate like the other humans could be. Roscoe always knew what to expect of her. The rules were clear. He was walked twice a day and fed three times a day. He would be given treats for abiding by the rules like not barking in the house or other buildings. She never swatted him away with a newspaper or spoke harshly to him. When he had behaved badly, she knelt down so that they were at eye level with each other and talked to him in a stern tone. He hated those times. He cared for her. He could tell she was more vulnerable than the other humans that the thing which made her different was evident to others as well. It was why they whispered to one another when she passed them. Although she had raised him, since he was a pup, Roscoe felt he was one of her guardians.

The move to Virginia during the autumn had thrown off their normal routine. They only came to the Big House in the winter and summer seasons. Roscoe could tell by the heightened activity and parade of humans coming in and out of the house that something was afoot. He could smell the discontent in their perspiration and hear the distress in the tones of their voices, but Sera always remained the same it seemed.

She was staring at the sunlight dying on the waves of the river as it passed them by. Roscoe whimpered to get her attention and she stroked the spot between his ears. He gave a satisfied moan and waited for her.

* * *

Bev pulled up to the main gates. She rolled down the driver-side window and pressed down on the buzzer.

The intercom crackled to life. "State your business," said a gruff voice.

"I am Beverly Hannah von Rothschild. I used to live here," she replied back.

There was a moment's pause, before noise came from the intercom once again.

"Does he know you're here?" it asked.

"No, but you can tell him for me," she returned.

The intercom went dead once again.

Bev sat staring at the house through the black iron wrought gates. She tapped her short manicured fingernails against the steering wheel. Twenty years ago, she had sworn never to set foot into this house again. But damn it to hell, she was desperate. And heaven knows what a desperate mother is capable of when the life of her child is at stake.

Suddenly, the gates creaked and opened wide like the jaws of a beast.

_There's no place like home_, she mused sarcastically to herself. This place had never really been home. It was an ornamented tomb like the pyramids. No one could truly live here.

"Miss Bev!" squealed a familiar voice.

"Mopsy?"

"Miss Bev remembers Mopsy! Oh, Mopsy was thinking she would never see young Miss again," the violet eyed house-elf cried out.

"I didn't think I would either," Bev said kneeling down to hug the house-elf who had been her childhood companion. "Mopsy, don't cry," she chided as she felt the tear drops drench her shoulder.

"Oh, Mopsy is sorry. I is to take you to see, your father," the house-elf said wiping the tears away with the hem of her apron.

Bev was escorted by Mopsy to her father's study. Figures in the large portraits turned to stare at her. "She's back," they said to one another with differing degrees of sneers and cheers.

Anselm von Rothschild was seated at his antique desk with his back turned towards them. Only the elbow of his right arm holding a phone to his ear was visible to them outside the contours of the large black leather chair.

"You will take care of this problem," he said in a tone brooking no dissent. "Good," and finally swiveled around to hang up the phone.

"Ah! The prodigal daughter returns," Anslem said turning to lay eyes on his youngest daughter, his only surviving child, for the first time in two decades.

"Hello father," she said.

"Have a seat," he offered.

She sat down in front of his desk in a French antique padded chair she recognized as something from the seventeen hundreds.

"You want money?" he asked bluntly.

"No, papa, I don't want money. I don't need money," she said repulsed that it was what he thought she had come to him for. "I came here because I need your help."

"With what?"

"You know what. You're better informed than the most heads of state," Bev answered.

The last twenty years had added wrinkles to her father's face. His frown lines had deepened and his forehead was creased with permanent worry lines, but the skin over his cheekbones was taut and his hazel eyes were alive with intelligence and alertness.

"How can I help you with your legal troubles? Am I a lawyer like your Gentile husband?" he said dismissively.

"You know how," Bev said sighing in frustration.

"Are you wearing a wire?" he asked.

"What?" she exclaimed.

"If you are recording this, I have right to know. It is the law," he said tapping his finger against the desk.

"No," Bev answered shaking her head. "You're still as paranoid as ever."

"Have you ever met a person who has never told a single lie in their life?" he asked.

"No," she replied heaving another sigh. She had heard this all before and knew the speech to come verbatim.

"I am not paranoid. It is because I understand human nature that I am distrustful. During the war, our own neighbors sold us out to the Nazis. I saw with my own eyes. People, who had been friends since the cradle, turn on one another like sewer rats," he rebuked.

"Then, you know what its like to watch people you care about be taken from you," she said searching his eyes for understanding. "Help me keep my family together. Don't let them take my little girl."

He turned his back to her to gaze out the window. It was bullet proof and deflected the even the strongest curses and hexes. He joked to himself that his home was both a place to live and a fortress that could survive Armageddon. His girls used to play hide-and-seek in his study. They crawled underneath his desk until they were chased out by Sara or Mopsy.

"She's not your daughter, Beverly," he replied turning to face her again. "She belongs to them – to those fanatics. You should give her back to them."

"Never," Bev answered coldly. "You have to help me papa. You owe me."

"What are you talking about? This owing? You broke my heart, when you left," Anselm replied hitting the desk with his fist.

"You broke mine first," Bev retorted and let out the torrent she had held back all these years. "You never gave a damn about me or Phoebe because we weren't boys and you blamed mama for not giving you sons. Phoebe tried so hard to please you and she was brilliant and beautiful and you couldn't appreciate her. You kept telling her, 'If only you were a boy,'" Bev repeated the phrase in disgust. "You made her hate herself and then to top it off she died because of _you_. Because you pissed off the wrong person and Phoebe paid for it with her life. And then… I came home one day and Mama was gone too. You broke all our hearts papa with your business… your empire, so you owe me. I should ask you to lay down your life like Phoebe did, but all I'm asking is that you help me save my daughter."

"You blame me for all this?" he replied incensed. "I gave all of you the best of everything. When have you ever felt hunger gnawing at your insides, until the roaches became delicacies to you? When have you ever felt so cold, that you felt your blood freeze. I tell you the answer. Never. Never have you felt true hunger or coldness like I did. I worked and worked to put food on the table, clothes on your back and send you to the best schools. And in return all I get is your scorn and hatred."

"Your wrong, papa. I was always hungry. Hungry for a kind word from you but all I got was your coldness. So, I gave up. I quit trying to please you and that's why I lived," Bev retorted.

"But you come crawling back to ask me for favors," he threw back at her.

"No, I came back to collect what you owe me," she said.

"Fine. I grant you your wish, but…" he paused, "I wish to see my grandsons."

"No," Bev said instinctively.

"Then deal is off," he replied frostily.

"Damn it," Bev cursed. "Why do you want to see them?"

"Because one day," Anselm said with a flourish of his hands. "All this will be theirs. That is if they take the Rothschild name too."

Bev shook her head, but stopped herself from uttering another refusal. Will and Danny would never give up the Keating name for any amount of money or power her father could tempt them with.

She closed her eyes. She felt like Faust making a pact with the devil, but if her father was Mephistopheles, what did that make her?

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

1) In the previous chapter, I forgot to place a footnote that the math problems and answers were from a movie about a child genius, called, "Little Man Tate."

2) Another disclaimer that this is a work of fiction and that although there is a prominent banking family by the name of Rothschild, this fanfic is not meant as a commentary on them at all.

To **dancer8428 **- Sorry to say, I'm not so smart in math. But I hope this quick update makes up for it. Thanks for the review!

THANKS to all who read and review. )


	23. Chapter 23 Trial by Fire, Part 4

**Chapter 23 Trial by Fire, Part 4**

* * *

Roscoe's ears perked at the sound of movement. There was a strange scent in the air and his hackles rose in response.

"There you are, dear," Loretta said spotting Sera sitting on a large rock with Roscoe by her side. "You forgot your gloves."

"Thank you, Auntie Lori," Sera said blankly. She had forgotten to put them back on after she'd tied her shoes.

Loretta handed the black leather gloves to the child noting the blue tinge in Sera's fingertips as she slipped the gloves on. She was so susceptible to the cold.

Loretta couldn't recall the last time Sera had forgotten well… anything. She was such a fastidious child and it spoke volumes to Loretta of what affect the trial was having on her goddaughter. She sat beside Sera and put an arm over the girl's shoulder and kissed the top of her head trying to warm Sera with her own body.

"These are hard times, love," she said.

The woods around the estate were a riot of colors. Leaves the color of russet brown, orangey-reds and yellow strewn the paths. When you walked you heard the crackle and crunch of the brittle foliage beneath your heels. But Sera's eyes were fixed on the James River flowing before them. Loretta followed the direction of the girl's gaze to a long branch floating on the currents. It bobbed up and down on the waves and momentarily clung to the edge of the shore but the force of the water broke its grasp easily, determined to take it out to sea.

"Would you like to hear a story darling? To while away the time?" Loretta offered.

"It's time to return to the house," Sera replied.

"It is, but wouldn't you rather linger just a bit longer. The house won't disappear on us you know. It's not Brigadoon. Besides, I think the grownups need more time to figure out what's to be done."

The law firm of Keating & Bailey, LLP, employed close to a hundred employees and it seemed as if all of them now inhabited the mansion. Parchments traveled helter-skelter around the halls. This morning at breakfast, the Madame Evelyn Keating harped about being caught in the midst of a squadron of paper airplanes. To their credit, some of the younger attorneys and clerks had gotten creative. An occasional paper crane, frog, unicorn or some such gamboled down the carpeted halls with notes on some law precedent, obscure regulation or other.

"Yes, Auntie Lori. I would like to hear a story," Sera answered.

"Let's see," Loretta said thoughtfully. "I think what we need is a really old story. Something thousands of years old… Oh, I know just the one. It's one I tell my students."

She wrapped her knitted shawl over Sera's shoulders and herself, before starting.

"A long time ago, in the Kingdom of Israel, there was a wise, wealthy and powerful king, named Solomon. He had a magnificent white walled palace with many rooms. Some were filled with nothing but gold. Some were filled with his many wives. And some with his many concubines," Loretta paused.

Her students usually chuckled at this part, but Sera was silent. Her dark eyes cast downwards at the waters beneath her feet as though she wasn't paying attention at' tall. But Loretta wasn't dispirited by the girl's impassive countenance. She knew in her heart that the girl was soaking in every word, and continued to tell the tale.

"And King Solomon also had many advisors in his court. And among these was a crafty man by the name of Benaiah ben Yehoyada, who was Solomon's most trusted minister. However, Benaiah had become proud and haughty because of his high position. He was contemptuous of those he considered below him, which happened to be everyone else, except the king, of course. So upon noticing this, King Solomon, wise man that he was, decided to humble Benaiah.

"One day, in mid-winter, Solomon called the minister before him in the Great Court.

"Benaiah," he commanded, "There is a certain ring that I want you to bring to me. I wish to wear it for Sukkot, which gives you six months to find it."

"If it exists anywhere on earth, your majesty," replied Benaiah, "I will find it and bring it to you. But, your highness, what makes this ring so special?" he asked.

You see, he was curious to know why the king, who had no doubt dozens, perhaps hundreds of rings to choose from, would send _him_, Benaiah, with all his skills and intelligence on a treasure hunt for this one particular ring.

"It has magical powers," the king explained in a hushed whisper.

On hearing this Benaiah was intrigued and asked, "What sort of magical powers?"

"This ring is rather peculiar," the King answered. "If a happy man looks at it, he becomes sad. And if a sad man looks at it, he becomes happy."

"Now Solomon knew that no such ring existed in the world, but he wished to give his minister a little taste of humility, you see. He was sending Benaiah on a wild goose chase. That means a futile search, Sera," Loretta explained.

"Spring passed and then summer, and still Benaiah had no idea where he might find the ring. Then on the night just before Sukkot, Benaiah decided to take a walk through one of the poorest quarters of Jerusalem. Perhaps, he wished to be mugged, and have the king take pity on him," Loretta surmised with a mischievous grin, "Anyhow, Benaiah passed by a merchant who had begun to set out the day's wares on a shabby carpet.

And Benaiah decided to ask the man, "Have you by any chance heard of a magic ring that makes the happy wearer forget his joy and the broken-hearted wearer forget his sorrows?"

"The old merchant looked at Benaiah thoughtfully and then began to take a plain gold ring from his shoddy carpet and began to engrave something into the ring. Benaiah patiently stood by until the jeweler had finished. The old man gave Benaiah the ring, and when the minister read the words on the ring, he smiled for the first time in many months.

In the following evening, the celebrations for Sukkot began and Benaiah's day presented himself at the royal court.

"Well, my friend," said Solomon, "have you found what I sent you after?"

And all the other ministers beside the king laughed and Solomon also grinned slyly.

But to their amazement, Benaiah held up a small gold ring and declared, "Here it is, your majesty!"

He placed the simple ring in the palm of the king's hand. And as soon as Solomon read the inscription, the smile vanished from his face. You see, the jeweler had inscribed three Hebrew letters on the gold band. They were, 'gimel, zayin, and yud,' which began the words 'Gam zeh ya'avor,'" Loretta pronounced carefully. "It means this 'This too shall pass.'"

"King Solomon realized that all his wealth and power were but fleeting things, because one day they would turn to dust as he would when he died. Now, I'm not trying to depress you," Loretta explained. "Perhaps you're getting too old for morality tales. But my point is that you have to enjoy the moments as they come. We're going through a hard time, right now, but it'll pass and joy will come again. You'll see."

Loretta hugged Sera to ward her against the autumn winds.

"I am not too old for stories. I like for you to tell them," the girl said impassively to her godmother.

"Oh, Sera," Loretta laughed to herself rocking the girl against her. "You stay as sweet as you are."

* * *

"It's insufferable, Rodolphus. A _Muggle _woman, the godmother of our child," she hissed.

"It can't be helped now luv," he tried to soothe her. "It boils my blood too."

"My mother wouldn't have let that sort of filth within breathing distance of us," Bella continued to rage. "We should take her now," she said rising from the spot where they were hidden.

They were camouflaged by a disillusionment charm and a muffling spell kept their voices from carrying past a foot beyond them, but their movements hadn't gone unnoticed by the wolf-like dog that kept company with their daughter. When the dratted beast had come sniffing around them earlier, they'd been forced to retreat further away.

"Get down," Rodolphus said struggling with his wife briefly. "We can't just take her."

"Why not?" Bella demanded. "What's standing in our way? A dog and an old woman?"

"The Dark Lord –"

"Will understand," she protested. "If he saw what we were seeing, he'd understand."

"Fine!" he said letting go of her arm. "We'll just dispatch the mutt and the Muggle. We'll Apparate with her back to our cottage. And then what, Bella?"

"We'll raise her!" Bella replied with surprise. It should've been as obvious as day to him.

"Oh! It's so very simple!" he mocked in return. "For Merlin's sake, Bella. She needs Healers and medicine and who knows what bloody else. But it's for sure that she needs more than we can provide for her at the present time."

"She needs us, Rodolphus. She needs her real mother and father," Bellatrix insisted, but Rodolphus was satisfied by the defeated look that had crept into her eyes that let him know him know she saw the logic of his reasoning. She whirled away from him to look back at her daughter. The girl was being bored silly listening to the old Muggle woman's inane fairytale about some ancient Jewish monarch.

A sneer formed on her lips as she considered that her daughter was a prodigy of sorts. Illness or not her child was no dolt and definitively not the drooling moron Lucius had envisioned.

Rodolphus wrapped his arms over her shoulders and she made no move to cast him off. He was right. For now, they had no choice but to bide their time and watch over their daughter from the sidelines. Once Narcissa and Lucius had custody, arrangements could be made for them to be reunited.

She had thought seeing their daughter in person would ease the longing in her heart, but it only fueled her desire to be reunited with the little girl she had borne into the world.

"Sera!" a voice called out. "Loretta. It's dinner time."

Bellatrix watched as Beverly Keating sat beside her child. As that bitch removed a leaf from her daughter's hair and as she took the hand of her daughter and led her away from sight.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I love the "This too shall pass" parable, which I paraphrased from It's ancient so I think the copyright has expired, but if not, please don't sue me or I'll never finish this story.

Next chapter… it's a twister.

Thanks for reading and **reviewing**.


	24. Chapter 24 Trial by Fire, Part 5

**Chapter 24 – Trial by Fire, Part 5**

"_A trial is still an ordeal by battle. For the broadsword there is the weight of evidence; for the battle-ax the force of logic; for the sharp spear, the blazing gleam of truth; for the rapier, the quick and flashing knife of wit."_ – Lloyd Paul Stryker

* * *

"Mrs. Malfoy, why do you want custody of Sera?" Bailey asked the woman with pale-blond hair pinned-up in a twisting chignon.

Narcissa Black Malfoy sat regally composed in her midnight blue robes, and answered him coolly, "I promised her mother, my eldest sister, Bellatrix, that I would care for her child."

"So, you are seeking guardianship to merely fulfill a family obligation?" Bailey asked.

"Family obligation is not taken lightly in our household, as it may be in others, Mr. Bailey," she replied in a politely, as though Bailey was having high tea with her instead of conducting a hostile cross-examination. "Lucius and I agreed to raise Bella's child as if it were our own. This was not something we agreed to lightly or without due consideration, unlike some others," she said alluding to Bev and Rick's fifteen-minute decision to adopt Sera.

"And how do you intend to care for her?" Bailey proceeded to question her amiably.

"We will find the best Healers to treat her of course. Not some unqualified _doctor_," Mrs. Malfoy said the Muggle word as though it were a leper to be avoided at all cost. "Perhaps, a new environment will help to improve her condition," she said casting a loving glance at her niece and did not react with the chagrin she felt at seeing the girl's inattention. Sera, her head tilted at an odd angle, was staring off into the distance at Merlin knew what. Nonetheless, Narcissa continued to declare that, "Seraphina will be given the best medical attention and education possible. She shall never lack for anything."

Bailey nodded as though in amenable understanding. "These are largely material concerns, Mrs. Malfoy," Bailey assessed, clasping his hands behind his back. "And the Keatings are not paupers," he reminded her with a slight dip of the head as though slightly embarrassed at having to correct her. "My question goes more to the sort of values you would impart to her."

"Seraphina will be raised to be a follower of the Old Ways," Narcissa said as though laying down a pronouncement. "To give due worship to the Gods, observe the Sabbats, respect her elders, and to uphold the family honor."

Bailey straightened his jacket and faced Mrs. Malfoy with a steely countenance. "Aside from Bellatrix Black Lestrange, do you have another sister, Mrs. Malfoy?" Bailey asked stoically.

The man's calm demeanor clashed with the provocative question he had uttered. His change in subject caught Narcissa by surprise and she could not suppress the hateful glare that expressed its wrath so clearly on a face so fair.

"I _did_," Narcissa answered after regaining her cool composure.

"What is her name?"

"Andromeda."

"Is she deceased?"

"No."

"Then why do you speak of her in the past tense?" he asked nonplussed by dangerous chill in the blonde's voice.

Narcissa looked over at Maddox for guidance and found none. The man nervously shuffled papers around while Lucius glanced at the back of barrister Bailey with disapproval.

"My sister and I are estranged," Narcissa replied attempting to sound more casual as though she were speaking about a dismissed House-Elf . "She was disowned from the Black household many years ago."

"What sort of family values does this demonstrate?"

"Well, seeing as how Mrs. Keating is similarly estranged from her father, I don't see how Sera would be learning any differently." Narcissa said arching an eyebrow in disdain.

"Objection, your Honors," Bailey responded staunchly. "Mrs. Malfoy is overstepping her bounds as a witness."

"Objection sustained," Judge Marshall concurred. "Please limit your comments to answering the questions," he instructed.

If Bailey was surprised by Narcissa's knowledge of the familial history of the Keatings, he did not allow it to faze him in the least, but continued with his former line of questioning like a train determined to arrive at its station.

"Why was Andromeda disowned by the Black family?"

"She disobeyed the wishes of my parents. She married someone who they thought was not worthy. My parents were not callous people, if that is what you're insinuating. They wanted what was best for her. It is not that our family broke with her, Mr. Bailey," Narcissa intoned. "Through her own actions, Andromeda demonstrated that she preferred an outsider over her blood kin knowing full well the penalty. She ungratefully threw away everything my parents had given to her."

"Who exactly is this 'outsider' you refer to?"

She hesitated before saying the hated name "Ted Tonks.".

"And why was Mr. Tonks judged to be an unworthy suitor?"

"You must understand, if you can, Mr. Bailey that the Black family is one of the most noble and illustrious families in the Wizarding World," she said condescendingly no longer feigning cordiality. "We are among the few remaining ancient families. It is up to us as descendants to preserve the purity of our bloodlines. Clearly, marrying Mr. Tonks, a _Muggleborn_, was in antithetical to everything we were raised to uphold."

"Do you know if your sister has a child from this marriage?"

"Yes," Narcissa said her voice chilling another degree below zero.

"Do you know the child's name?"

"Nymphadora Tonks," Narcissa said.

"How old is Miss Tonks?" Bailey asked.

Narcissa rolled her eyes, "I don't know. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say she was twenty some odd years."

"And in these twenty plus years, have you had any contact with your niece, Nymphadora Tonks?"

"No," Narcissa said. The look in her eyes was one of contained anger.

"Why not?" Bailey asked.

"When my family severed ties with Andromeda it included any mixed-blood offspring that might come from such a union," she chose her words carefully, recognizing the correlation Bailey was trying to draw from this line of questioning.

"Do you plan to inculcate Sera with these values of blood purity? To teach her that some people are inferior by birth – that she must disassociate herself from those who are not like her just as you have?" The sharp edge in Bailey's voice cut through the hushed silence of the courtroom.

"I wouldn't expect someone from a culture so vastly different from our society to understand the deeper implications of mixing bloodlines. And from what I know of Seraphina, she is a bright girl and capable of arriving at the same conclusions as we have," Narcissa said, the color rising in her cheeks. "But yes, we would give her a sense of the importance of keeping the bloodlines closed. To not betray the Wizarding blood that flows through her veins."

"One last question, Mrs. Malfoy. If Seraphina were to marry a Muggleborn, just as her aunt Andromeda did, would she be consequently disowned as well?"

"I don't believe a smart girl like Seraphina would make such a stupid mistake."

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter doesn't contain the big twist I've been hinting at, but it is forthcoming.

**LMTran** – your hunches about more plot twists about Beverly and her father are correct. Thanks for your insightful reviews!

**Jessica** – I'm sorry about being so slow to reveal the promised twist. Some part of me is afraid you'll be unhappy at the outcome though.

**ShyOrangette** – Sad to hear about your computer problems, but glad you're all caught up on the story now. Thanks for adding this story to your favorites.

**Pprincess17** – Thanks for your review.

**Midnight-Dragon07** – Here's the update though later than desired.

Thanks to all those who take the time to read and review. You guys are the best.


	25. Chapter 25 Trial by Fire, Part 5B

**Chapter 25 – Trial by Fire, Part 5 **

"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!" Lucius shouted as he balled up the newspaper in his hands. "I'LL KILL HIM! BETTER YET I'LL SUE! I'll turn this wizard into a heap of dragon dung! I'll have him strung up by his thumbs and –"

"What's the matter?" Narcissa asked in alarm at her husband's threats.

It was a testament to Lucius's self-control as his demeanor changed from one of incensed fury to calm sobriety.

"Just an opinion piece about trial. Terribly, biased in favor of the Keatings. Nothing to concern yourself with dearest," he said holding the rolled up newspaper behind him with one hand.

"Give it to me, Lucius," she demanded and petulantly stamped her foot. "Now!"

"Its rubbish," he tried to assure her, "I shall take care of it," he said more sternly. "You –

Narcissa snatched the newspaper from him and charmed it to uncrumple itself. Her eyes darted across the page and narrowed in on the article titled, _"Keating case strengthened by Auntie Malfoy's testimony_."

"COLD, CONNIVING AND UNFEELING! NOT FIT TO MOTHER A CHILD!" she read the description of herself in disbelief. Her eye's bulged in shock as she read the writer's coup de grace, "IGNORANT… PREJUDICED… SNOB!"

She shrieked and then sank into one of the overstuffed armchairs of their rented suite; still clutching the newspaper in her manicured hands.

Lucius regarded her cautiously as he took the seat across from her.

Shock became rage, as she started up from the seat with renewed vigor and threw down the offending parchment. It burned quickly with a flick of her wand. Lucius put out the fire before it could set the Oriental rug alight.

"I'll have him covered in woodlice and have a hundred bowtruckles devour him! Oh, he'll pay. _Nice and slow_," she fumed.

She marched over to the fireplace and flung a fistful of powder into it. "Maddox!" she shouted.

The smarmy wizard's face appeared apprehensively in the green fire. "I want to know where an Albert Zbignew lives!"

"Mrs. Malfoy, please. Please calm down," Maddox begged, astutely realizing that the Malfoys had read the morning edition of _The New York Wizarding Times_. "It'll be forgotten in a day. It's the Saturday paper. No one reads the newspaper on Saturday."

"I won't forget!" she retorted. "How could I forget something so vile written about me. Me! Does this Zbignew know who I am? I am a _Black_! And a _Malfoy_! I'll make him regret the day he learned the alphabet. Writing this – this rubbish! How dare he! Doesn't he know who we are? For Merlin's sake, Maddox! Do something!"

Maddox sighed heavily. "Mrs. Malfoy, it's an editorial. The wizard is allowed his opinion. If it had been a regular article than we might have recourse to –

"_He's allowed?_" she screeched. "To slander the name of Malfoy! Of Black! What are we paying you for!"

"Now, Cissa," Lucius said calmly. "I'm just as angry as you are. Damned Americans never knew their place. But it will do no one any good for you to work yourself into a frenzy, dearest. Let me set things right," he assured her as he ran a hand through her long blonde hair. "Now how about we get your mind off this dreadful business. Let me see, I do believe I promised you a trip to Tiffany's."

* * *

_Le silence éternel de ces espaces infinis m'effraie._

**The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.**

– Blaise Pascal (1623–1662), French scientist, mathematician

* * *

"Read the last part again," Bev asked her son.

Danny cleared his throat and read in a mockingly dignified voice, '_It is the opinion of this Editor-in-Chief, that if Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy truly cared for their niece, they would allow her remain with the Keatings, _where she so obviously belongs_. Mr. and Mrs. Keating exude warmth and love for their little girl; unlike the Malfoys, who could give an Eskimo frostbite. The skillfully conducted questioning by Benjamin Bailey, Esq., revealed Mrs. Malfoy for what she truly is – an _ignorant prejudiced snob_. I wouldn't trust the Malfoys with my cat much less a child.'_

Applause rang through the dining room. Danny took his bows and hopped down off the chair.

"Bravo, son," Rick congratulated him. "Sure you don't want to join the firm," he said patting Danny on the shoulder.

"No, I wouldn't want to steal Will's thunder," Danny shrugged nonchalantly, but couldn't help the satisfied smile that spread over his face at the praise he received.

Bev caught her youngest son's pleased expression. Danny had been indispensable in raising morale. He did a hysterical impression of Maddox that had Rick, Ben and the other legal eagles in stitches. Will on the other hand was the one who brooded. Short of stunning and levitating him into the dining room for meals, it had been near impossible to drag him from the towering volumes of legal code. She was proud of both of them, of course. They were trying in their own separate ways to keep the family together.

"Why aren't you eating Sera?"

Bev heard, Rick ask their daughter, sitting beside him. She was staring blankly at her plate of French toast, which had been cut into sixteen pieces. Sera only ate the parts that most resembled squares, but she hadn't touched her breakfast.

"Sera," Rick said again, frowning at her unresponsiveness. "Sera," he said more loudly drawing the attention of his colleagues.

Rick ignored their hushed murmurs of concern. He placed a hand in front of Sera eyes and waved, but all she did was blink. "Sera… sweetheart… princess," he said into her ear gently trying to call her back from wherever she was. He took one of her hands in his own. She was cold as ice. He patted the smaller hand. "Seraphina, come back now. Come back to us, princess."

Bev's face was ashen. "Honey," she said. Bev was on the other side of her daughter. She ran a hand through the girl's hair. "Don't do this, baby. Come back."

Rick rose; his face resolute.

"No, Rick. We can't," Bev pleaded. "Maybe she'll snap out it on her own."

"We can't leave her like this," he said frustrated and carried his daughter's limp form to her bedroom.

Roscoe followed behind forsaking the slices of bacon that had been tossed to him.

Bev went into the study to phone Dr. Engels.

The assembled interns, clerks, and colleagues from the law firm murmured to one another in hushed voices.

"Goddess is she going to be alright?"

"She looked like she was in a trance."

"I hope she'll be okay."

"That was freaky," another said.

Will slammed a hand on the table rattling the plates. "DON'T CALL HER A FREAK!"

"I didn't," a young brunette woman said defensively. "I said it was … that is the situation is –

"Forget it!" he said throwing down his napkin and left the table to see if he could help his parents.

Danny was left with empty chairs beside and across from him. He speared a piece of sausage.

"Aren't you going to go help Daniel?" asked one of the senior attorneys.

"I am. I'm staying out of the way," he replied without looking at the man. "She's not like this usually," he said to no one in particular. "She hasn't done this in years."

Aunt Loretta and Grandma Evie returned from their quiet café breakfast away from the din to a family in turmoil.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Towards writing this at the end, I started to feel nauseated. And I had to take off my glasses, which means I'm squinting and the letters are all blurry. Oh wells.

Jessica – Yeah, I think you'll be surprised about the verdict.

Rebellion Author – More strong words from Mrs. Malfoy in this chapter.

Midnight-Dragon07 – Glad you didn't give up hope on this story. Good question about Mrs. Malfoy. It will be answered in the next chapter.

The Enchanted Teakettle – I based Bailey's character on Atticus Finch from _To Kill a Mockingbird_.

Thanks for all of your reviews. It really motivates me to keep writing, so I update sooner. Hint Hint.


	26. Chapter 26 Trial by Fire, Part 6

**Chapter 26 – Trial by Fire, Part 6**

"**_The fiery trial through which we pass, will light us down, in honor or dishonor, to the latest generation."_** – Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865), U.S. president

* * *

**Wednesday, July 5th 1992**

The Huntzberger Institute for Higher Learning, New York

"Sera, I want you to list all the things you saw in the previous picture I showed you that are not in this picture. On the count of three. One… two… three."

Norstadt clicked the stop-watch. As it began ticking off the seconds, Sera wrote furiously on the paper numbered from one through thirty-five.

"And stop," he said after the allotted seven minutes.

Norstadt frowned slightly as he checked Sera's list against the answer sheet.

The first picture was a photograph of a street scene. The second picture was of the same scene with various differences. Some alterations were obvious: a missing stop sign, an added fence, a man replaced by a woman etc. Other changes were subtler: a man wearing a different colored tie, a 'No Parking' Sign from 9am to 5pm now read 'No Parking' from 7am to 3pm, the clouds were positioned differently, and so on.

The picture completion portion of the Weschler-intelligence-quotient test measured visual perception, long-term visual memory, and the ability to differentiate essential from inessential details. The average ten year-old could correctly list between fifteen and twenty differences between the two pictures. Above-Average scored twenty-five. Superior thirty.

Sera had thirty-six answers, which explains Norstadt's dower demeanor, since there were only thirty-five blanks.

He guffawed as he realized that his pupil had noticed what the test preparers had overlooked. In the far bottom right corner of the first picture was printed the number 1 and the on the second picture was the number 2.

They were nearing the end of the three-hour examination. Norstadt pulled out another stack of picture cards.

"Sera, I want you to arrange these pictures to tell a story." This would be harder for her. Although, she'd almost certainly order the pictures in the correct sequence, the exercise also required her to demonstrate a nonverbal understanding of social interaction.

But Sera's attention was drawn to something else away from the table and picture cards. Her gaze was locked on some distant point of the floor.

"What are you thinking about?" Norstadt asked as he tried to follow her line of sight.

She remained silent and still.

"Sera," Norstadt called again. "Sera!"

He clapped twice close to her ear.

She startled and Norstadt breathed a sigh of relief.

"Why didn't you answer me when I called you?" he asked sternly.

"I did not hear you."

Deafness was not the issue. Sera's intense concentration – that ability to drown out everything around you and focus on a single object was part of her 'gift.' This quality coupled with her advanced learning capabilities allowed her to excel in certain academic and magical subjects like mathematics and charms that required precision and mental concentration.

It had amused her brother, Danny, for a period of time, to shout, "Fire!" at her while she was working out a math problem or reading a book. She paid him no mind. And it wasn't because she intentionally ignored his antics or believed he was lying. It was because she was 'lost' – lost in that extraordinary mind of hers.

The technical term to describe Sera's attention span was monotropism. Every person has a limited availability of attention because there were only so many metabolites available in the brain. Due to Sera's altered brain chemistry, she had a tendency to focus on a single object or task rather than distribute that attention more broadly, as was normal in most people.

It was a source of anxiety to her parents. What if indeed, there was a fire, and she was too engrossed in some thought or project? Would she fail to heed the sounding sirens or blaring alarms? At this point, all signs pointed to 'yes.'

Sera lifted her head so she could discreetly glance over at her teacher from the corner of her eye. She perceived disapproval in Norstadt's worried frown. His blond eyebrows were pushed together and his mouth had the classic upward arc of an unhappy face.

"I am sorry. What did you say?" she said kicking her feet beneath her, though her head was still down, causing her long black hair to fall own the sides of her face like raven's wings.

"I wanted to know what you were thinking," he said.

"I was thinking about triangles," she said simply, once again studying the pattern of tiles on the floor. "In right-angled triangles, the square on the side subtending the right angle is equal to the squares of the sides containing the right angle."

The tiles were positioned in a rectangular brick pattern with no triangles present.

"What makes you think about triangles? Where do you see them?" he asked.

"Any polygon can be broken up into triangles," she replied. "It is interesting."

"It's good to have interests, Sera. But right now, you're taking a test, remember?" Norstadt reminded her.

"The test is not interesting," she remarked, but nonetheless obeyed.

* * *

Present-Day

**Saturday, October 12th 1996 **

Keating Estate, Virginia

Engels capped the needle and replaced the bottled solution back into her medical bag.

Rick and Bev were at their daughter's bedside.

"Drink some water, baby," Bev said placing the glass close to her daughter's parched lips.

Rick transfigured one of the pencils on her desk into a straw. Sera sipped momentarily.

"You scared us, sweetheart," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

"I am sorry, father," she said tiredly. "I did not intend to."

"Honey, you have to look at me when I'm speaking to you," Rick admonished her.

"I am sorry," she apologized again, this time meeting his worried blue eyes.

"She may be disoriented," Engels explained, "But … well you know the side-effects."

"Thank you for coming, Elaine," Bev said gratefully.

She nodded in reply and opened the door to let the rest of the anxious Keatings know that their youngest member was recovering.

"I don't know what we'd do without you," Rick agreed as he stepped out into the hall with her. "I'll take you home now, I'm sure you've got patients to see – other lives to save."

"Uh… if Dr. Engels doesn't object, I'd like to apparate with her back to the city," interjected Bailey. "There are some papers waiting for me at the office," he offered. Rick's drawn and tired face gave Bailey the impression that his law partner wasn't fit to apparate across the street much less across three states.

"Sera needs both her parents," Engels concurred.

"Thank you Ben," Rick said appreciatively.

Bailey and Engels walked out onto the grounds. Golden brown leaves littered the pathway. There was a bare cherry blossom tree that marked the point at which appartition was possible some yards away from Keating Hall.

"Dr. Engels, what happened to Sera?" Bailey asked as they walked.

"You should know better councilor," Engels responded stiffly. "Patient-doctor confidentiality."

"I need to know as her attorney," he said stuffing his hands in the pockets of his gray trousers. "They've subpoenaed her testimony."

"They wouldn't," Engels said stopping in her tracks to face him, "She can't testify."

"I need a medical reason," Bailey informed her.

"I'm not sure there's one to give," Engels said, wrapping her arms around herself in the chilly winds. The Keatings had never told her their daughter had been adopted. Bev and Rick meant no malice by it but they had misled her. Over the last few weeks, Elaine had spent much of the time revising her treatment plans accordingly.

"I've had to rethink everything even the diagnosis, Mr. Bailey," she began again, resuming her steps towards the white-barked tree. "Knowing now, that Sera was adopted opens up the possibility that her illness is hereditary. But I don't have access to the Black or Lestrange genealogical records and I doubt they would have recorded any neurological or psychiatric disorders that run in their families.

"However, I also don't think what Sera suffers from could be inherited. I think… and this is highly theoretical and unproven… I think the Dementors did something or affected Sera, in utero."

Bailey removed his hands from his pockets, and glanced over at Engels to ask, "How is that possible?"

"When a mother carries a child, Mr. Bailey, they are inextricably linked together," the doctor said, intertwining her hands. "They're almost one person. Whatever the mother eats, the fetus does too. If the mother becomes ill, so does the child. Some people go so far as to say that a mother's emotional state is felt by the child too.

"I don't think anyone's ever asked the question of what would happen to the fetus if it were exposed to Dementors. There are no textbooks or articles on the subject, because such a hypothetical would be obscene. As stupid as politicians can be, I can't believe the British government allowed for this to take place. It's a miracle Mrs. Lestrange didn't miscarry."

"But since she did not," Bailey prompted.

"It could be that Sera was protected by her mother's magic or the outer uterine wall."

"You don't seem convinced," he said reading the pensive expression on the woman's piquant face.

"No, my guess is that Mrs. Lestrange would have been in her second trimester, at the time she was arrested and held for trial. The second trimester is known as the fetal period. Toxic exposures at this stage often cause physiological abnormities or minor congenital malformation."

"But Dementors aren't a toxin."

"No, they do however transgress physical matter when they feed."

"A fetus doesn't have any memories either positive or negative," Bailey argued playing devil's advocate.

"That's a philosophical question. Who are we before we're born?" she asked rhetorically, throwing her hands up in uncertainty. "Plato and Pythagoras believed that when we're born we forget the place we came from.

"A fetus is an incredibly vulnerable life form, but if it does have a consciousness, then the Dementor's would be able to sense it and try to feed. They are half-starved in Azkaban."

Engels paused in her thoughts to lean against the tree. The sky was graying as the last rays of the autumnal sun died away. "My working theory is that Sera defended herself in the only way possible. Her mind severed itself. It hid away part of her consciousness."

"Is that what she does now? She hides away when she feels threatened?"

"Possibly. It could be an unconscious defense mechanism. This trial – this upheaval of her routine, it's thrown her completely off. It's encroached on everything that made her feel safe."

"The fight-or-flight instinct," Bailey remarked. "She's done this before hasn't she?" he said almost accusatorily.

"This has been an enlightening conversation, Mr. Bailey," said Engels digging a hole in the ground with the tip of her black pumps, "but if you want anymore information, you'll have to subpoena me. Either that or you could go ask your partner," Engels said with a hard-look in her warm chocolate eyes.

"How were you able to bring her out of it? She was catatonic."

"A good magician never reveals her tricks," Engels said, evading the question.

"Right," Bailey said, conceding defeat, for now. "But these theories of yours, Dr. Engels. Would it be possible for you to –

"To write up a report for you as soon as possible," replied Engels finishing his sentence. "For what it's worth."

"It's worth a lot, doctor," Bailey assured her.

"Yes, the word of a 'quack squib healer' is so very valuable these days," she replied sarcastically.

"You've been reading the _Daily Prophet_," Bailey said, astutely recognizing the quotation. "You should know that the owners of that rag are good friends with the Malfoys. That paper isn't good enough to line the cage of an owl."

"You read it though," she pointed out.

"That's because it's my business to know. The press, even bad press skews public opinion."

"How very wise," she said favoring the handsome older man with a smile and taking his arm. "Now shut up and take me home."

* * *

Present-Day

**Monday, October 14th 1996 **

Superior Wizarding Court of Justice, NYC

Lucius Malfoy came to the stand prepared this time for Bailey's trickery. He was ready to set his wits against the American attorney. Lucius was sore at the portrayal of his family as ignorant snobs by _The New York Wizarding Times_.

Curiously, he found that amidst the Howlers and hate-mail that had been sent to him and instantly obliterated, there were well-wishers. Apparently, some strains pure-bloodlines had survived the immigration from the Old to New World. These _American pure-bloods_, lauded the Malfoys for their stand on blood purity. America had lost its way, they lamented. The country needed to return to a time when mudbloods and half-bloods weren't allowed to walk on the same sidewalk as purebloods.

Not all public opinion had been turned against the Malfoys. The Carrows had reinterpreted Narcissa's testimony so that it barely resembled the actual events.

Editorials in _The Daily Prophet _portrayed the Keatings as a dysfunctional family. The youngest boy, Daniel, was a juvenile delinquent who made a habit of getting into fights at school and tried to runaway from. And who could blame the boy, since his mother, Beverly was an emotionally imbalanced artist unfit to care for an invalid daughter. Rick was characterized as a workaholic, who rumor had it, drank too much and neglected his family, when he wasn't inviting dangerous werewolves and vampires over to his home. However, it had proved nearly impossible and less urgent to dig up dirt on the eldest son, Will, who was a paragon of virtue, almost boringly so – first in his class, mentor to poor inner-city mages. So, he was not mentioned at all.

The Carrows sympathized with poor dear Sera, who had been kidnapped by a circle of renegade Aurors, and sent to live in that rebellious young nation across the sea. She was a pretty, bright, but sick little girl, who merely needed to go home to her true British family. The Malfoys would set her right, rid her of that horrid American accent, and give her proper medical care.

The girl's eccentric foster parents had taken her to a squib physician. This _doctor_, Elaine Engels had no doubt prescribed the child 'drugs' full of bizarre chemicals, subjected the girl to experimental treatment and worst of all – limited her magical abilities, _on purpose_, out of squibbish spite or jealousy. Anyone with a heart could see the girl should be with her natural family, especially if that family was the esteemed Malfoys.

It was under this media blitz that Lucius Malfoy took the stand. He appeared regally serene in black robes, holding his silver snake-headed cane like a scepter.

Benjamin Bailey stood up from the plaintiff's table took a sip from his glass of water, and buttoned up his dark gray suit, before proceeding with his cross-examination.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you and your wife have a child?" Bailey began.

"Yes, I have a son named Draco," Lucius said silkily. "He's _very_ eager to meet his little cousin."

"And why isn't your son here?" Bailey asked in his arid, detached professional voice.

"Irrelevant, you Honors!" Maddox called out, nearly knocking the table over with his sizeable girth.

Danny was surprised the corpulent man could move so quickly without inducing a heart attack.

"Your Honors, I am questioning Mr. Malfoy on his parental relationship with his son. It is relevant to how he will act as a pseudo-father figure to Seraphina Keating," Bailey explained.

"Well put, councilor," Judge Weinfelder lauded Mr. Bailey's choice of words, and knocked his gavel for the trial to resume.

Bailey paced over to the front of the witness stand just off to the side of standing directing in front of Lucius Malfoy.

"Where were we… I believe I asked where you're son is at the present time," Bailey said.

"My son is attending the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Sounds prestigious," Bailey remarked.

"That's because, _it is_," Lucius drawled pompously, "The Hogwarts School is one of the finest educational institutions in all of Europe – and in my opinion, one of the best schools in the magical world."

"Is Hogwarts a boarding school?" Bailey queried.

"Yes, students study and live in the Hogwarts castle." Lucius answered cautiously. The black-American lawyer was going somewhere with this line of questioning.

"So for the majority of the year, your son is away at school?"

Lucius noted the slight edge in the attorney's voice. "Yes," he replied, guardedly.

"And what is your involvement past or present with the school?"

"Generations of Malfoys have attended the school, since it's founding over a thousand years ago. And I once served on the Board of Governors."

"But you are no longer on the Board?"

"Yes, I resigned my post," Lucius said silkily, his voice absent of any resentment one might expect. "To pursue other interests."

"Could you elaborate on these _interests_?"

"Well, I administer the family estates and accounts. Invest in promising ventures and make donations to charity."

"Getting back to the subject of your son, Draco," diverted Bailey. "When is he home from school?"

"Three months for the summer hols and on the Sabbats."

"Would it be fair to estimate that you and your wife are in face-to-face contact with your son for a little over one-third of the year?" Bailey asked, stepping almost imperceptibly forward.

"Yes," the pale-blonde answered suspiciously.

"Do you intend to send Seraphina off to a boarding school?"

"No, of course not. She's not fit to go. She'll stay at the manor to be looked after."

"Why do you say she's not fit to go?"

"I think we can all agree that she can't … interact properly with her peers."

"How do you think she will interact with you?"

"I am her uncle, Mr. Bailey, such familial connections liken one person to another," he drawled, turning his cane slightly.

"When you say Sera will be 'looked after' – what does that entail exactly?"

"We will hire the necessary healers to monitor her condition and tutors for her education. Seraphina will also learn about who she is – her origins and family history. These are things the Keatings cannot provide."

"Who are these healers or tutors?" Bailey asked clasping his hands characteristically behind his back.

"We haven't hired them, yet. We would want Seraphina to have a say in who her teachers will be," Lucius answered with a slight smile toward the girl, even though his niece's head was down and cocked at an odd angle. She looked like a doll that had been tipped forward too far.

"How considerate of you," Bailey commented. "So I'm sure you've considered the fact that Seraphina requires almost constant supervision."

"Yes, we have," Lucius said quickly, not wanting to appear hesitant. "Although Seraphina has special needs, we are also aware of her intellectual and magical abilities. _In my experience as a father_, I feel that a child needs more independence to learn self-sufficiency."

"Interesting that you should use that phrase "self-sufficiency," Bailey said. "Did you remember it from the medical records we sent you?"

"Yes," Lucius answered confidently, "My wife and I have been educating ourselves about the effects of this Asperger's syndrome."

"Your Honors, I would like to read, plaintiff's Exhibit R into evidence. It is the most recent medical report from an examination conducted by Healers Cornelius Mahler and Katerina Shenko of the Cognitive Disorder Institute in Geneva, the only place of its kind in the Wizarding World that is attempting to understand diseases such as Seraphina's."

Judges Weinfelder, Marshall and Winters turned to one another. When they faced forward again, Judge Marshall spoke for them, "We vote unanimously that councilor may proceed as long as the material is _relevant_."

"I assure you that it is, your Honors," Bailey said as he walked over to his table for the file and began to read:

It the conclusive opinion of the department of pediatrics for cognitive disorders, that long-term care projections are necessary for the patient, Seraphina Keating, now age fourteen, since it is unlikely that the patient will ever achieve full adult autonomy.

Seraphina manifests qualitative impairment in social interactions marked by the _non-use_ of multiple nonverbal behaviors such as eye-to-eye gaze, facial expression, body posture, and gestures to regulate social interaction. She has failed to develop multiple peer relationships appropriate to her developmental level due to her lack of social and emotional reciprocity. Further complications include an impaired comprehension of speech and language. She is prone to misinterpretations of literal or implied meanings making formal public schooling untenable.

Most troubling is Seraphina's inability to control the full intensity of her magical powers. When she experiences strong emotions or trauma, she causes the destruction of property and threatens the safety of others as well as herself. To remedy the situation and with parental consent, it was deemed necessary to bind her magic as a last resort. These restrictions have been gradually loosened and will continue to be so as she matures, but total control seems highly improbable.

Seraphina adheres to specific routines and rituals which only function to provide her with a sense of psychological security and order. She cannot deviate from her schedule of activities without experiencing acute dysphoria, absent of the social skills necessary to adjust to changed situations or circumstances. It is likely that she will never be fully self-sufficient to live apart from her primary caregivers.

As Bailey read the report, the eyes of the court were drawn to the little girl in the second bench behind her parents. Her head hung down causing her black hair to fall in front of her hiding her face from the stares. Loretta placed an arm around the girl to comfort Sera in her distress.

"Propaganda," Lucius muttered from the witness stand under his breath, though it was heard by the entire courtroom due to the Sonorous charm placed on the witness chair.

"Mr. Malfoy," Bailey said whipping his head up to look the man in the eye, "Are you accusing the Keatings of falsifying a medical report that predates the events leading to this trial?"

"No," Lucius retracted. "Merely, that it suspiciously serves their point of view."

"I ask the question again," Bailey emphasized sharply. "Mr. Malfoy, are _you and your wife prepared to take care of Seraphina for the duration of her entire life_? Or do you intend to send her off to some other fine institution."

"Mr. Bailey, _we_ are not savages. We will not put her on an iceberg to float out to sea. We take care of our own. And we are prepared to care for Seraphina as long as necessary. She is a part of our family, after all."

The court went into recess after the testimony of Lucius Malfoy. Closing arguments would be heard in the late afternoon.

* * *

Superior Wizarding Court of Justice

Judge's Chamber

The Honorable Talia Winters removed her red and black judge's robes. The day she had first put on the coveted attire was over two decades ago. Now she couldn't wait to take it off, but doing so didn't remove the weight of responsibility on her shoulders.

This was an international landmark case. It would be studied, critiqued and reverberate throughout the legal world. And at the center of it was the fate of a little girl. A sick little girl, who anyone with any sense would leave with the family that had raised her from infancy. Winters wouldn't leave her cat in the care of the Malfoys, but the law was the law. In the Wizarding world, a contract was inviolable unless either party chose death over fulfilling their end of the bargain.

The judge's neck and shoulders ached with tension.

"Difficult day, Judge Winters?" said a woman's voice.

"Who are you?" Winters whirled around to face a petite brunette with her dark-brown hair twisted in a tight bun.

"Who I am is of no consequence," the strange woman said in a self-assured manner. "But you may call me Charity," she suggested with a cat-like-grin.

"How did you get in here? SECURITY!" Winters shouted as she reached for her wand in the pocket of her robes.

"Looking for this?" the shorter woman taunted the judge. Charity skillfully twirled the wand between her fingers and stopped abruptly. "Sit down, your Honor," she ordered before sitting in the opposite leather armchair.

"What do you want?" Winters demanded.

"_I _don't want anything from you," she answered, "However, my employer does, which brings us to this." The woman removed a manila envelope from her briefcase and placed it face down on the judge's desk.

Winters opened it breaking the wax seal. She removed the sheaves of papers, which turned out to be photographs. They were photos of herself and her law clerk, Bruce Halligan, her lover; not to be mistaken with her husband. She and Bruce were in the midst of an impassioned kiss against the wall of a back alley behind a Chinese restaurant.

"How did you get these?" Winters asked, clutching the photos so hard that its inhabitants cowered in terror as the frame threatened to collapse on them.

"How, is not the right question, your _Honor_," Charity retorted with a smirk. "All you need know is that we have them and are prepared to release them to every major news outlet, if you rule against the Keatings."

"If I rule against the Keatings?" Winters repeated. "Are they your employer?"

'Charity' as she called herself sneered at the judge's guess. "No, my employer's tactics are too shall we say, _ruthless _for the Keatings. My employer subscribes to the philosophy of enlightened self-interest, which means that one only acts for the benefit of one's self."

"You want me to give custody to the Keatings. That's it. That's all that you want?" Winters asked her neck and jaw line visibly tight.

"What else do you wish to concede?" Charity said snidely, "Foolish woman, and I was told _you_ were one of the great legal minds of our age. People with venerable reputations are hardly as they appear. One finds in my line of work that such personages are less virtuous as they are made out too be. But to answer your question, _yes_, this is all my employer wants. For now," she added with a laugh.

"Blackmailing bitch," Winters cursed.

"Oh, boo-hoo. You've gone and hurt my feelings," Charity retorted and with a wave her wand set the photograph in the judge's hand on fire. "Don't do it again," she intoned carefully.

"Alright," Winters conceded. "I'll do it."

"I hope you're not just saying that for my benefit," Charity said, her lips colored a stark red in contrast with her tan skin. "Any delusions of grandeur – such as sacrificing personal happiness in the name of the law and fairness of the justice system, would be a monumental act of stupidity. My employer is very powerful and pitiless. Do I have your assurances that you will vote in favor the Keatings?"

"Yes," Winters hissed the word.

"Good," Charity replied getting up from her seat. "You can keep the photos. We've got loads of copies. But before I leave, let me offer you some advice woman-to-woman, do not cross my boss. Look I made a rhyme," Charity smiled maliciously at her own joke, "My employer does not take kindly to betrayal. And I would hate to have to visit you again. And believe me when I say that _you_ would not like to have me visit you again."

With those parting words, there came a loud "CRACK!"

And the judge's wand fell from midair to the floor.

* * *

Author's Note:

Midnight-Dragon07 - I hope this answered part of your question.

LMTran - Danny's fun to write. Bev's father is Charity's employer, but I bet you figured that out. The verdict and the aftermath is going to be interesting. That will be the next chapter. I promise. Closing arguments and the verdict and the big twist.

dancer8428 - How do you like Charity - is she evil enough? And yes, Sera has Asperger's Syndrome, but it's sort of mixed as you can see from Dr. Engel's theories.

ShyOrangette - Thanks for the motivation!

Thanks for all of your reviews!

It really motivates me to keep writing, so I update sooner. Hint Hint.


	27. Chapter 27 Trial by Fire, Part 7

**Chapter 27 – Trial by Fire, Part 7**

* * *

Present-Day

**Tuesday, October 15th 1996**

Superior Wizarding Court of Justice, NY

"I call Miss Seraphina Bianca Keating to the stand," Conroy Maddox said solemnly to the seated triumvirate of judges.

Opposing council, a grim-faced Benjamin Bailey stood and addressed the court, "Your Honors, for the record, I'd like to voice my objections once again and implore you to reconsider allowing Mr. Maddox to question Miss Keating. She is a minor of diminished capacity. And subjecting her to the trauma of testifying before an open court is unconscionable."

"Your objections are noted councilor," Judge Marshall replied frostily. He stroked his short salt-and-pepper beard and leaned forward, "Whatever Miss Keating's deficiencies, one of them is not being unable to tell right from wrong and fact from fiction. Therefore, your contention that her mental disease disqualifies her from testifying is overruled. And as for the numerous precedents you've cited in your brief," Marshall said picking up a hefty file of parchments, "These do not apply under such unique circumstances. We are treading on new legal ground, gentlemen," he lectured, "Step lightly."

"We wish to hear from the young lady – in her own words what she wants," said Judge Weinfelder adding in his two cents. "These proceedings concern her future well-being after all."

"Seraphina Keating is hereby called to the stand," Judge Winters announced with a knock from her gavel.

Sera stood up and straightened her navy-blue dress with a white peter-pan collar. All eyes followed her as she walked up the aisle and stepped carefully up the five steps to the boxed in witness chair. The seat was permanently charmed with a Sonorous spell to amplify the voice of its occupant.

"Miss Keating. May I call you, by your nickname, Sera?" Mr. Maddox asked charmingly in an attempt to disarm her fears.

"Yes, sir," she answered sitting up straight as Mr. Bailey had taught her.

Maddox shrewdly assessed her. Sera's raven tresses had been neatly arranged in a half pony-tail tied with a navy-blue ribbon to match her dress. She sat up stiffly in the chair as if a rod had been placed in her backside and stared straight ahead of her with her hands primly folded in her lap. She reminded Maddox of a Victorian dolly with her implacable expression. Bailey had no doubt coached her.

"Sera, my dear, I know this must be very difficult for you," Maddox began saccharinely. "I and your uncle and aunt only want what's best for you. So, I do hope you'll forgive us for inconveniencing you like this."

Maddox walked over to the defendant's table where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were seated wearing splendid robes of hunter-green with black sable trim. The stylish aristocrats had earned a place in the _Style Section_ of the _New York Wizarding Times_, as one of the best dressed couples and they intended to grace the pages again this week.

Maddox picked up a manila folder from the table and approached the witness stand with it.

"Now I'd like to show you a picture. And you, if you can, tell me if you recognize the people," he said.

He placed a large photograph in front of Sera. It was of a dark brown haired man with a beard in black dress robes with silver fastenings grinning widely. He held hands with a woman. Her white veil had been pulled back to reveal her jet black hair and heavily lidded eyes. She wore an ivory wedding gown and smiled slyly back at Sera.

"This is a photograph of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange," Sera answered,

"Very good," Maddox praised. "How is it that you recognize them?"

"My parents showed me their photos from the newspaper," she answered.

"Did they?"

"Yes, I just said that they did."

Light laugher erupted from the courtroom.

Maddox though peeved, continued, "And what do you know about your parents?"

"My parents are Beverly and Roderick Keating. My mother is an artist from the Impressionist school of painting and the curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art –

"Not _them_," Maddox said loudly. "What do you know about your _real_ parents?"

"My parents are Beverly and Rod—

"They are not your real parents little girl!" he shouted. "These people are!" he said waving the photograph at her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Keating are real," Sera explained without irony. She swung her legs beneath her, occasionally hitting the wooden paneling. "They occupy space and time. They have mass and composition. They are real in every sense of physical matter."

Chuckles and laughter rippled through the courtroom.

"ORDER!" Judge Winters exclaimed with three loud whacks of the gavel. She was not amused.

The proximity of the noise startled Sera, but she resisted the urge to cover her ears.

Maddox was infuriated. "Young lady do not waste the court's time with your cheek," he lectured as he stepped forward towards the witness box. "And would you stop that infernal kicking!"

And that was it.

Seraphina opened her mouth wide and let out an ear piercing wail that was magnified tenfold by the Sonorous charm. She appeared to go into some sort of spasm and continued screaming.

Maddox nearly fell as he hurriedly backed away.

Glasses of water that had sat placidly on the judges' table trembled on their sterling silver tray along with the water pitcher. The window panes shook in their frames awakening the portraits below.

"Clear the courtroom!" Judge Marshall shouted.

As if to emphasize his words the water pitcher and glasses shattered. People ran screaming for the exits as the windows appeared to be next.

"Sera stop it!" Bev yelled.

Her daughter was rocking back and forth on the chair. Her hands covering her ears as she continued screaming her lungs out.

Rick pulled Sera from the seat and held her against himself on the steps. Only then did the girl stop screaming.

"Remember our song sweetheart," Rick said into her ear. "Sing it with me, baby… The itsy-bitsy spider went up the waterspout," he began to sing soothingly to her.

The windows stopped shaking though Sera continued rocking herself against him.

"Down came the rain and washed the spider out." He closed his eyes as he sang and held his little girl.

She sang the last verse softly with him in a hoarse whisper, "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain and the itsy-bitsy spider went up the spout again."

* * *

"It is the decision of this court to reverse its earlier ruling. Seraphina Keating will not be recalled as a witness. We will now hear the closing arguments of the defendants." 

Maddox stood up in his custom tailored business suit before the judges and spoke:

"A magical contract is inviolable. Once it is written and signed, it is done. The child Seraphina Bianca Keating is the legal ward of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. No one can refute this fact.

"Fourteen years ago, renegade Aurors found a loophole in the contract and they exploited it in the most hateful way possible. They robbed Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy of fourteen years of time with their niece. They kidnapped the girl moments after her birth. They told her parents that she had died. They told her legal guardians, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy that she had died. Can you imagine the grief? The grief that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were forced to endure.

"I ask the court to right the wrong that was committed those many years ago. I ask the court to honor a contract signed between the International Confederation of Wizards and the British Ministry of Magic. Return this child to her rightful place. The law demands it."

Maddox reseated himself beside his clients convinced they had won.

Bailey stood and approached the judges' bench.

"Your Honors, I ask you to consider what is in the best interests of Seraphina and not adhere to the letter of the law. Laws were created to protect the innocent. Sera is one of those innocents.

"Yes, fourteen years ago, a great injustice was done to the Malfoys. They waited for the birth of their niece with great anticipation. But fate stepped in and Sera was adopted by another family. A family that had also been expecting a child. A family that has done just as the Malfoys would have – they raised Sera as their own flesh and blood daughter.

"The job of a parent is a difficult one. Raising a child in our world is not easy, but doubly so, with a child who is different from most. One who has special needs. The Keatings never shirked away from meeting Sera's needs. Another family might not have done so. Another family might have washed their hands of her and placed Sera in an institution once her disability was discovered. Remember that Healers diagnosed her as being mentally retarded. But the Keatings never gave up on their daughter. Bev and Rick Keating rose to the challenge. And under their care, Sera flourished. A little girl, who was told she would never read above the second-grade level, now corresponds with university professors and scientists in the fields of mathematics and astrophysics.

Your Honors, if you take Sera from this family, it will be comparable to taking a fish out of an aquarium and ordering it to walk across a desert. We know what the law says, but we ask for what is in Sera's best interests. Is it with the Malfoys, who are ill prepared to receive her or the Keatings, who have demonstrated time and time again their love and devotion for their daughter?

* * *

Present-Day

**Wednesday, October 16th 1996**

12 Grimmauld Place

Lupin looked around the much improved drawing room. Molly and the children had gotten the infestation of Doxies out of the curtains and the Boggart in the writing desk had been dispatched. The nest of dead Puffskeins in the dusty emerald sofa had been cleared out. With the exception of some nasty pieces of work still taking up space in the glass cabinets, the room was nearly decent.

It looked a great deal better than the slum Lupin lived in. Government housing for werewolves left much to be desired.

The tapestry displaying the Black family tree in all its glory still hung on the far left wall.

"What's on your mind Moony?" Sirius asked noticing his friends perplexed expression. "This is old news," he said gesturing at the ancient floor mat.

"I think there's someone missing," Lupin said thoughtfully. "Here," he pointed at the empty spot below the double line of gold embroidery linking Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange. "Shouldn't the tapestry have recorded the girl's birth?"

Sirius tried to follow his friend's logic. The tapestry recorded all legitimate births in the Black family. Any demon spawn of Cousin Trixie and Rolopolo should have been instantly sewn in.

"Remus, it's an old door mat," he concluded. "Maybe we've got an infestation of Chizpurfles and they've eaten away at its magic."

It seemed a sound estimation to Lupin. The house was a veritable zoo of every magical household pest known to Wizarding kind.

* * *

Present-Day

**Thursday, October 17th 1996**

"This is Aidan Wynn of the Wizarding Wireless Network reporting live from the steps of the Superior Wizarding Court of Justice of New York. We have just received word that a verdict has been handed down from the ICW. By a two-to-one vote, custody of the child, Seraphina has been given to the Keatings.

Marshall the dissenting judge expressed surprise at what he called the 'sentimental' reasoning of his colleagues. Mr. Maddox representing the Malfoys has promised to appeal the ruling.

But this doesn't dampen the spirits of the Keatings or the citizens of New York. There are cheers from the crowds who have turned out to hear the verdict of this heartrending case as it finally reached its conclusion today. It is obvious from their enthusiastic responses that they agree with Judges Weinfelder and Winters.

* * *

"_We are the champions – my friends _

_And we'll keep on fighting – till the end_

_We are the champions_

_We are the champions_

_No time for losers_

_Cause we are the champions – of the world"_

The employees of Keating & Bailey, LLP sang loudly and proudly their chosen anthem of victory. It was time to stop working and celebrate. Assorted friends of the family converged on the estate to join the party.

Evelyn Keating was in her element directing the organized chaos. At a moments notice she had flooed the best caterers and florists available. The dining hall had been transformed to hold a banquet dinner for all their colleagues and friends to celebrate the occasion.

"A toast to Benjamin Bailey," Rick said standing up and holding his glass of red wine high. "The best lawyer in all of New York and my best friend."

Wine glasses clinked in agreement with cheers resounding up and down the table.

"My family and I want to thank all of you. All of you for putting your time and your hearts into this. I can't tell you how much this has meant to us. Because of you, we get to keep our little girl. Thank you."

Rick sat back down next to his wife. Sera sat across from them cutting her steak into ten perfect cubic squares. Will was immersed in conversation with his Aunt Loretta, while Danny did another impression of Maddox objecting to everything in sight.

* * *

Present-Day

**Saturday, October 19th 1996**

"Good Goddess," Bev breathed out as she turned the key in the door. "It is good to be home."

"Yes it is," Rick concurred embracing her from behind. He touched a spot on her abdomen he knew was particularly ticklish. Bev giggled and squirmed in his arms.

"Ugh. Can you wait till we're asleep at least?" Danny queried from behind lugging a duffel bag.

"Spoilsport," Bev retorted as she walked into the house.

"Home sweet home," Loretta said plopping down on the sofa.

Sera headed for her room to rearrange her things back to their proper order. Roscoe bounded up the stairs excited to be home as well.

An owl tapped on the backdoor of the kitchen. Rick took the letter from its beak. It was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Keating and marked urgent.

"What is it Rick?" Bev asked as she poured herself a mug of coffee.

Rick's face was distorted in a mixture of sorrow and anger as he gripped the letter in his hand though he allowed her to take it from him.

_19 October 1996_

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Keating,_

_I am writing on behalf of my client, Professor Severus S. Snape, in relation to the child Seraphina Bianca Keating._

_This letter is to notify you that on October 18th 1996, my client began proceedings to obtain a formal court finding of paternity. This will require the submission of a blood sample from the child in contestation to be conducted by a third party with witnesses of the first and second party. It is Professor Snape's intention to file a petition for custody once biological paternity has been established._

_Please make arrangements with my offices at your earliest convenience. _

_Regards,_

_Aaron Montague, Esq._

"This is some sick joke, Rick!" Bev cried out. "It has to be."

Rick shook his head. "It's not a joke, Bev," he replied quietly.

"But it can't be true," she protested. "Her father's Rodolphus Lestrange. We did the tests."

"We only tested Narcissa Malfoy, remember?"

"Then you're saying that its possible Lestrange isn't the father," Bev realized.

"Narcissa's blood only confirmed Sera's maternal lineage from the Blacks. We didn't have any relatives from the Lestranges," he leaned against the kitchen counter for support as he explained. "We assumed – Bellatrix is married to Rodolphus. We didn't think. Oh Merlin..."

"Who is Professor Snape?"

* * *

**dancer8428 - **glad you liked Charity. 

**Midnight-Dragon**07 - I took a while to update. I don't know if this chapter was worth the wait. I wanted to get something done though. There's so much more to the story. So I sort of rushed this chapter.

**The Enchanted Teakettle - **Yeah, I think Dr. Engels is easy to relate to. Thanks for the review.

**Dayz-n-Passions-luvr - ** Hope I haven't driven you insane. That was the twist - Sera is the daughter of Severus and Bellatrix. The how and why shall be revealed. Stay tuned.

**LMTran - **I love all the conjecture in your comments - makes for good story ideas. Thanks.

**ShyOrangette **- I'll put Bella in the next chapter. It's going to be a crazy chapter.

**myblacktears - ** There's going to be another tug of war over Sera. And yes, eventually the HP generation will come into play. Thanks for your comments. They really encourage me to write.


	28. Chapter 28 Whose daughter

**Chapter 28 – Whose daughter?**

**

* * *

**

"**Pray you, sir, whose daughter?" – **William Shakespeare, _Love's Labour's Lost_

**

* * *

**

The Dark Lord had gathered his Death Eaters together at the ruins of Blackmoor Castle to make a new announcement. It was a starlit night remarkably clear and unmarred by obscuring clouds. Here amongst the ruins of a once great fortress the Dark Lord delivered startling news to his followers encircling him.

Voldemort's scarlet eyes were focused on the Malfoys as he reprimanded them for their failure, "Due to the bungling of Lucius and Narcissa in this affair, I have instructed Severus to reclaim the child. He is, as it will surprise you to learn, the girl's _natural_ father," he paused to allow the news to sink in.

"You bitch!" Rodolphus roared shoving his wife unceremoniously into the center of the circle.

"No!" Bellatrix cried out. "It's not true."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Voldemort asked coolly. "Do not fret, Bella. All will be made known to you. Or do you not trust me?"

"No, Master."

Voldemort raised his wand. "Crucio!"

And Rodolphus fell to the damp grass screaming in agony.

The Dark Lord lifted Bellatrix from the ground.

"You have been steadfast," he said to her and then turned to address the rest of his robed and masked minions. "We shall make no judgments about liaisons between two loyal members of my Death Eaters," he said as she retook her place in the circle.

Rodolphus stopped screaming and managed to stand up with the help of his brother. Through his silver mask, he stared venomously at his wife, who had so publicly cuckolded him.

"I expect you all to support Severus in his bid for paternity. The girl will be returned to us one way or another," Voldemort declared.

* * *

Professor Snape apparated on the outskirts of Hogsmeade to walk the familiar road leading to the front gates of Hogwarts. He whirled around with his wand at the ready as he heard the crack of another Apparition behind him.

Bellatrix pulled back the hood of her dark olive cloak. "How?" she demanded from him with her wand pointed at him.

Severus grinned nastily at her revealing his yellowish teeth in the moonlit night. "Do you need me to explain the birds and the bees to you?"

"I never slept with you," she hissed. "I'd sooner mate with a manticore than bed a greasy git like you."

"That's not quite, how I remember it. You begged me to take you," he snickered.

"Crucio!"

It was Snape's turn tonight to fall to the ground writhing in pain. His wand fell from his hand.

Bellatrix kicked it far from his reach and stepped on his hand with the heel of her boot.

"Now tell me what you did to me," she commanded. "Tell me!" She kicked him hard in the ribs.

"Polyjuice," he spat out.

"What?" she said taking a step back.

Severus sat-up gasping for breath as the pain dissipated from his nerves and joints. He feared for his wand hand though. "Master's orders," he spluttered out to her. "I took Polyjuice and pretended to be Rodolphus."

Bellatrix's face twisted in disgust. "I don't believe you!" she yelled. She waved her wand again. "_Crucio! _Tell me what really happened."

Severus fell over. His limbs twitched in agony. He groaned in pain. "It's true," he managed to say.

"I don't believe you! The Dark Lord would never betray me! You're a lying bastard!" shouted Bellatrix in an impassioned rage. "You're lying! You filthy slimy son of a Bludger!" She emphasized her swearing with kicks to Snape's lower abdomen.

Snape grabbed her by the boot with his left hand causing her to fall to the ground.

"Think, Bellatrix!" he said. "You were the one who wanted a baby. And the Dark Lord promised you one, didn't he?"

"A baby that was mine and Rodolphus's. Not _this_," her voice was strained with conflicting emotions. Tears welled in her eyes, but she pushed them back. "You," she said getting back up on her feet. "You raped me!"

Severus had by this time retrieved his wand while she had been distracted and shielded himself against the curse. "I did as the Dark Lord commanded," he retorted.

"I'll kill you for this Snape!" she shrieked raising her wand again.

"Kill me and the Dark Lord will take the girl by force. Is that what you want?"

Bellatrix lowered her wand. "What does he want with her?" Her ice blue eyes bore into his.

"I don't know," Severus admitted. "I am a servant of the Dark Lord. I do as he commands. And he ordered me to – "

"The Dark Lord ordered you to rape me," Bellatrix said softly as though she couldn't believe the words she was saying.

"Yes, Bellatrix," he confirmed. "Rodolphus was sterile. The potions and spells were proving futile. The Dark Lord believed it was the only way you'd ever conceive. You were never to know." He coughed throatily. Blood mixed with phlegm covered his one good hand.

"But I am his most loyal, his most faithful –" she said. Her eyes narrowed as she realized the extent of the betrayal against her. A loud crack resounded as she apparated into the night.

Where she went, Snape did not care, so long as it was far away from himself.

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Keating, Mr. Bailey," Aaron Montague, a balding wizard, greeted the couple as they entered his office. "May I introduce, Professor Severus Snape."

The tall pale man inclined his head towards them in acknowledgement.

The two parties assessed each other unabashedly. Rick wondered briefly if the man seated across from him suffered from vampirism. The professor had shoulder length black hair, black eyes, a hooked nose and sallow skin. He was wearing charcoal black robes with buttons up to the high-necked collar.

Severus, likewise, observed that Roderick Keating was three inches shorter, broad shouldered with sandy blond hair flecked with gray and light blue eyes. Alongside the man, was the lovely Mrs. Keating, her jet black hair was held up in a chignon. The Keatings could have stepped out of a _Witch Weekly_ advert. They were a wholesome vibrant looking middle-aged couple.

Across from the trio sat their attorneys. Montague and Bailey each held a copy of the laboratory results. They were to be opened together to make sure the results were identical. They sat facing their clients and opened the envelopes at the same time. The papers were a jumble of numbers but all that mattered to them was the conclusion.

_It is the finding of the Geneplex DNA Diagnostics Center that Professor Severus Snape has a probability of 99.99 percent of being the biological father of Seraphina Bianca Keating._

_It is the finding of Fairfax laboratories that the subject Professor Severus S. Snape is the biological father of the subject Seraphina B. Keating with an accuracy of 99.9 percent. _

Rick and Bev were crestfallen but they had prepared themselves for the possibility that the man wasn't a fraud. Bailey's research had turned up some disturbing information about the man's past.

"But she doesn't look anything like him," Beverly said her thought aloud.

"Appearances do not account for everything, Madame," Severus replied. Though to himself, he admitted that the girl had blessedly inherited the Black family's good looks. Sera was the spitting image of her mother Bellatrix with the exception of her eyes. In that regard, she took after his own mother, Eileen.

"What do you want?" Beverly asked, sharply turning in her seat to face the man.

"Custody of my daughter."

"No, you don't," Bev accused her hazel eyes ablaze with fury. "Do you want money? Just tell us how much. A hundred thousand? A million?"

"Mrs. Keating, I find your offer insulting. I do not want so much as a knut from you as I am not in the habit of selling my progeny," Snape replied scornfully.

"Why did you wait so long?" Rick questioned. "Where have you been for the past fourteen years?"

"I believed the child to have been stillborn. I only learned of her existence a few weeks ago from the trial. I assumed the Malfoys would win custody of her. However, when they lost, I decided it was time for me to intervene."

"Why do you prefer the Malfoys to us?" Bev demanded.

"My preference is of no concern to you. My fatherhood has been proven and I will invoke my paternal rights. Seraphina is my daughter. She is no longer your responsibility or concern. She will come to live with me at Hogwarts at the earliest convenience. There will be no compromise," he stated flatly.

"You can't just take her from us," Bev protested.

"In that you are mistaken Mrs. Keating, Professor Snape's legal rights supercede your own," Montague explained frostily.

Bev turned to Bailey for support but he only nodded in acknowledgement of the cruel fact.

"We'll fight you," Rick swore. "We know you were a Death Eater, Professor Snape. No court will give her over to you."

"How dare you!" Snape shouted rising from his seat.

Rick stood up as well.

Montague intervened before the two men fought a duel and wrecked his office. "Please gentlemen," he said. "Would you care for a drink?"

"Dry double scotch," Rick said retaking his seat.

"Firewhiskey," requested Snape.

Montague stepped over to the liquor cabinet and began pouring drinks.

"Mr. Keating," Montague said as he handed him the tumbler," my client has been exonerated of those charges. Professor Snape is an eminent Potions Master and teaches at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For the past fifteen years, he has been entrusted with the care of hundreds of students. And I believe, that the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore would be willing to testify on my client's behalf."

"But by all means, you may put up a fight. Subject the child, you claim to love, to the trauma of yet another trial. You won't win. And you know it," Montague said looking at Bailey and Rick. You shouldn't have won against the Malfoys, I daresay," he said downing his own glass of Firewhiskey. "The statute is clear. A father has a right to his own flesh and blood."

* * *

**The Enchanted Teakettle **– Updated as per request.

**dancer8428 **– I hope this chapter cleared up some issues for you. Yep, Sera is the illegitimate child of Snape and Bellatrix.

**Dayz-n-Passions-luvr **– No need to wait long this time :)

**LMTran **– I had been planning the Snape as father angle from the beginning, but I didn't want to giveaway the twist. There are more plot turns on the way. Bev's father will reappear later. He's the patient devious type. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter.

**Thanks to all for Reading and Reviewing.**


	29. Chapter 29 Little Lamb, Part 1

**Chapter 29 – Little Lamb, Part 1**

**CHANGES TO THE STORYLINE.  
Sorry, but I had the dates wrong. The year should be 1995. The premise for this story is that everything follows basically follows cannon up to the Goblet of Fire. In this alternate universe, the escape of Death Eaters from Azkaban occurs right after Voldemort's resurrection. This now makes the characters one year younger. So Seraphina is 13, Danny is 16 and Will is 18. Please, don't yell at me or throw rocks. This is my first fanfic, remember? **

* * *

**October 21st 1995**

Keating Residence

Danny entered the family library, also his father's study, with trepidation. His parents had come home late last night after a trip to London and they had decided to hold a family meeting the next day, while Sera was at cello practice. Of all the instruments Sera had to play, she picked one that was taller and wider than she was and just screamed, 'I'm a nerd,' because her zillion point I.Q. wasn't enough. Danny just thanked Merlin it wasn't the tuba.

Will had learned early on how to tickle the ivories from their father. Unfortunately, Danny didn't tickle so much a bang on the much abused piano keys. So, Danny, at age ten, had tried the violin, but found the bow more useful for mock swordfights with his band pals, than for playing Mozart. He contented himself with being a spectator at his brother and sister's recitals and practiced the art of origami – folding the programs into paper airplanes.

The other musically inclined member of the family was Aunt Loretta. She was a folk-singer of some local renown, strumming out lovey-dovey songs on her guitar and the occasional blues song about a man that had done some woman wrong, which was not bad for an Irish émigré. She made family camp sing-a-longs bearable.

But Danny didn't have any of Loretta's genes, she had married into the family. And what accounted for Sera… he was still getting used to the idea that she was adopted.

Looking back Danny could see the hundred subtle clues he had missed. Sera was through and through like no one in his family, but she was a Keating. That much he knew.

"You're late," Will said as Danny entered the library and closed the polished oak doors behind him with a thud.

Danny shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. Who wanted to be early to a 'family meeting'? The good son, Will, of course. But normal people procrastinated when it came to things like visiting the dentist, showing your parents your report card, and generally all things unpleasant.

And from the look of things: his mother sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands, his father loosening his tie, Aunt Loretta frowning uncharacteristically, and Will being Will, Danny felt his tardiness was more than justified.

"Let's all sit down," his father said, joining his mother on the worn leather sofa.

Danny sunk into an overstuffed armchair. It was Muggle made and embroidered with what they thought were mythological creatures like unicorns and dragons.

Rick opened a file folder and removed a glossy photo. "This is Severus Snape," he said placing the photo on the coffee table. "The blood tests show that he's Sera's biological father, not Rodolphus Lestrange."

The image of the wizard was glowering at them all. Lank jet-black hair curtained the man's face framing penetrating black eyes, hooked nose and thin lips.

"He looks like Count Dracula," Danny observed.

"Sera doesn't look anything like him," his brother said disbelievingly.

"That's what I said," his mom agreed.

His dad grinned wryly, "Yes, and you said it out-loud and in front of the man – He's a professor at a boarding school called Hogwarts. It's in Scotland. He…wants to take Sera there."

"For what, school?" Danny asked in alarm, his sister didn't do well in groups.

"No, to live with him," his father answered.

"Tah live with him!" his Aunt Loretta repeated in shock, "Over my dead body."

"We haven't any choice," his mother said in a strained voice. "They'll take her by force if they have to. Patrollers and Aurors breaking down our door to take her at wand-point. "

The prospect of having a police force descend upon his house filled Danny with a mixture of excitement and anxiety as he imagined his family courageously defending their home, but the possibility that someone could get hurt… and the zero odds of winning…

"This isn't right," Will said, rising from his seat, he was uncharacteristically by understandably frustrated. "This isn't _fair_. There has to be _something_ we can do."

Rick shook his head and explained, "We can't argue abandonment, because he claims he didn't know she was alive. Our adoption of Sera is nullified because he never gave up his parental rights. We filed an injunction for a stay, on the basis of Sera's best interests, her diminished capacity to understand and the possible psychological trauma it could cause her. We have until the thirty-first and then either we hand her over voluntarily or they'll take her regardless."

"How about coming to some arrangement with Professor Snape?" Aunt Loretta suggested. "If he understood, how hard it'll be on her –"

Rick shook his head.

Bev let out a mock laugh, "He won't accept any compromise. Good Goddess, he's so much – so much like my father. Arrogant, cold-hearted bastard."

_Whoa_, Danny thought. His mom never talked about her dad. Grandfather Anselm von Rothschild was persona non grata in the Keating family. Danny hadn't known he existed until d his fifth grade family tree project, when Mrs. Haversmith had assigned each student to trace their families as far back as they could and add photos if possible.

He would never forget the haunted expression on his mom's face, when he'd innocently said, "Mom, my teacher gave me a dumb project to do. I need to know who your mom and dad are."

Bev had dropped her paintbrush and had to reach out for the edge of the drafting table to steady herself.

"Mom, are you alright? Are you sick or somethin'?" A then, ten-year-old Danny had asked her.

"Yes, sweetie. Mommy's alright. I just – need a minute," she sat down on a stool next to her drafting table. Her hands covered her face and she took deep breathes.

"S'okay, if you don't know," Danny had assured her. He'd make up names. Cut photos out of a magazine. He'd tell Mrs. Hammer-head he wasn't going to do anymore stupid homework that made his mom sad.

His mother had smiled at him then, "Mommy knows. You just caught me by surprise, sweetheart." She gave him a hug and a kiss, before sending him to wait at the kitchen table.

She returned moments later with a box of photos. They were a mixture of still and moving photographs some in color and some in black-and-white. She proceeded to give Danny the CliffsNotes version of the saga of the Von Rothschild dynasty. Some of it went over his head, something about a terrible war, about a crazy German guy and camps that were not like the summer camps he went to.

And it was more what his mother hadn't said about his grandfather, the indomitable Anselm Mayer von Rothschild. She hadn't outright called him a bad man per se, but she didn't say he was a good man either. So early on, Danny got the message loud and clear, Grandpa von Rothschild, wasn't going to be showing up at a family dinner anytime soon.

And here, his mother was comparing her father to Sera's biological father… what kind of man was he?

Danny's father's voice broke through his reverie, "The bottomline is that we have ten days, before we have to hand her over. We need to help her understand what's happening. We have to try to prepare her."

Prepare her, Danny thought. Was his father kidding? How were they going to get Sera ready to go to Scotland to live with Count Dracula?

Will paced the room looking like he might want to hurl a few books, while his parents forlornly flipped through pages of the file. Aunt Loretta's appeared to be deep in thought as she stirred her tea even though it had gone cold.

His aunt looked older than she had half-an-hour ago since the 'family meeting' had commenced. She was not your average sixty-five year old. She didn't sit in a rocking chair knitting socks. She traveled the world giving guest lectures on at universities. She was a popular visiting professor at the local college. Her classes on mythology and literature were always filled to seating capacity. She had a talent for connecting with people even across the vast distance from the lecture podium to the back row of the auditorium. Danny supposed it was this talent that had allowed her to develop a close relationship with Sera. Aunt Lori was able to breach the invisible wall that separated his sister from most other people.

Sera's was really small, when he thought about it. Although, he had school, a close group of childhood friends, Quidditch, and the whole of New York City to explore before curfew, the scope of Sera's universe was their family, and Nordstadt or Nerdstadt as Danny preferred to call him. Tutors came and went. She did correspond with a few people, but to his knowledge they were all eggheads who were at least three times her age. But once upon a time, Sera did have a friend her own age, it had turned out tragically. That was an old wound though and Danny wasn't going to pick at, especially not now. Each day has enough trouble of its own, as Grandma Evie, would say, without borrowing more.

* * *

_**"One inconvenience I sometimes experienced in so small a house, the difficulty of getting to a sufficient distance from my guest when we began to utter the big thoughts in big words. You want room for your thoughts to get into sailing trim and run a course or two before they make their port. The bullet of your thought must have overcome its lateral and ricochet motion and fallen into its last and steady course before it reaches the ear of the hearer, else it may plow out again through the side of his head."**_  
– Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. _Walden_ (1854)

* * *

**October 24th 1995**

Keating Residence

Professor Severus Snape arrived at 3:57 Eastern Time at Floo Terminal 21 at Penn Station connecting the Glasgow International Floo Exchange to New York City's Penn Station. After dusting himself off, Professor Snape was met at the arrival gate by Mr. Roderick Keating.

"Professor Snape," Rick greeted him with a warm handshake and a raised eyebrow at the man's choice of clothing. Snape was wearing a buttoned up dark blue almost black waistcoat with matching trousers from the Edwardian era.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Keating," he replied.

"You can call me Rick."

"I would rather not."

"Fine," Rick returned curtly, but quickly recovered his polite manner. "How was your trip?"

"Delightful," Snape drawled out sarcastically. "Shall we dispense with inane niceties and get on with it?"

Rick narrowed his eyes at the man, but when he opened his mouth, it was only to ask, "Are you prepared to Apparate?"

"Yes," Snape said and gripped Mr. Keating's shoulder, with a loud crack, Snape found himself standing on the backyard patio of the Keating residence.

He had accepted Mr. and Mrs. Keating's invitation to a luncheon. It was an opportunity to make himself known to his daughter, before she was formally given over to his custodial care. It was also a chance for the Keatings to try to gain his sympathies, or so the poor deluded Americans thought.

Rick pushed back a sliding glass door and bid him enter. Snape walked into a brightly lit kitchenette with an adjoining dining room. A few dry brown leaves blew in behind him littering the clean white tile.

The table was already set. The Keatings had managed to put together a traditional British Sunday roast. There was roast beef served on a platter with Yorkshire pudding and horseradish sauce, a dish of boiled carrots and peas, and a bowl of roast potatoes with gravy.

Well, well, well, Snape thought, the Keatings are trying to get to me through my stomach.

"Hello, Professor Snape," Beverly greeted them cheerfully at the door.

"Mrs. Keating," Snape said.

"How are you?" she asked brightly.

"Fine, thank you."

There was an awkward silence and then the sound of light footsteps on the hardwood floors. A girl entered the room with an elderly woman. A white wolf-like dog trailed closely behind them. The girl's head was bowed, so that her dark hair though tied back with a white ribbon, fell forward at the neck and shoulders hiding her face. Snape could see that she had been blessed to inherit her mother's shining black tresses and not his own oily conditioned hair.

"Professor, this is my Aunt Loretta Delamere," Rick said supplying him with the older woman's name.

"Mrs. Delamere," Snape said respectfully, to the green-eyed lady.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, professor," she said with a warm smile. Then turning to the girl, she tilted the girl's chin up with a finger, "Come now, Sera. Look at me." She made an odd gesture of pointing back and forth with two fingers from her own eyes to the girl's eyes.

The girl straightened her posture and focused on the older woman's face.

"That's good, Sera," Mrs. Delamere said.

Mr. Keating was at the side of his wife, whose face had paled as she watched the interchange.

"Sera, this is Professor Snape," Mrs. Delamere said gently prodding the child forwards.

The girl looked up at him for the first time though her dark eyes wandered up towards the ceiling past his head. Her head tilted to the left at an angle from the rest of her body. "Hello, Professor Snape," she said in an emotionless monotone.

"Hello Seraphina," he said. So, this was his child. Pale, tall, afflicted.

The white wolf sniffed at him suspiciously and growled his displeasure.

"Roscoe, no," the girl said sharply to the animal.

The beast lowered his head and actually whimpered. She scratched the top of the dog's head.

Two young men entered next.

"This is Will," Mrs. Keating said stepping forward.

He was a tall strapping lad broad-shouldered like his father.

"Nice to meet you, professor," Will said shaking the professor's hand.

"And this is Danny."

The younger boy, who had gaped at Snape momentarily, moved forward now, "Yeah, nice to meet you." He was nearly as tall as his brother but of a more wiry build.

They each took seats at the round blonde-oak table scraping chairs against the floor. Food was passed round. Glasses filled to brimming.

"What do you think of the food?" Mrs. Keating asked.

"Tolerably good, my compliments to you Mrs. Keating," Snape said.

She smiled and said, "You should pay them to Mr. Keating; he's the chef in the family."

"So, it's Mr. Keating who wears the apron in the family. How modern of you," he said wryly.

Danny choked on his food. Will slapped him hard in the back to dislodge the chunk of potato from his windpipe.

"You alright there, son?"

"Yeah," the boy answered nodding, now feeling pain from Will whacking him.

Returning his attention to the professor, Rick said, "I find most women appreciate a man who knows his way around a kitchen."

"So, you entertain many women in this manner. How very modern indeed," Snape said. Let him chew on that, he thought.

To Snape's surprise, Mr. Keating laughed, Mrs. Keating joined him, then Mrs. Delamere and the boys. It was forced polite laughter. The Keatings were determined in that uniquely optimistic American way to make this work. They were going to make lemonade out of lemons they had been handed. Unbeknownst to them was Snape's opposite objectives.

Mrs. Delamere tried to move the conversation along, "Professor Snape, I hear that you're a Potions Master at a boarding school. You must really love teaching if you're at a willing to live alongside the students."

"I enjoy it only slightly more than a root canal with the lot of dunderheads I'm forced to instruct," he said sardonically. "The only benefit of living at Hogwarts is the time saved in commuting to work and the army of house-elves it employs."

"What are dunderheads?" asked Sera, not looking up from her plate.

"I'll explain it to you later, sweetheart," Rick told her, patting her arm gently. "Finish your broccoli."

"Dunderheads are students who have the intelligence of a flobberworm," Snape said answering her question. "For some reason Hogwarts receives more than its fair share of them."

"Professor Snape," Bev interjected. "Sera tends to take things people say literally. So could you please dispense with the sarcasms?"

"Tell me Sera, do your _foster_ _parents_ often speak of you as though you weren't in the room?"

"Not often," Sera replied nonplussed and continued chopping her broccoli into bite-sized pieces.

Bev's mouth gaped open like a fish for a moment. "Sera, we – we don't mean to."

"It is alright, mother," said Sera.

Rick chewed on the roast beef and held his tongue. His daughter wasn't eating anymore but slicing her vegetables into smaller and smaller pieces. It was a sign of distress.

"Do not distress yourself, Mrs. Keating," Snape said condescendingly. "It's a common parenting error. One, children either learn to endure or resent."

"And exactly how many kids do you have?" Danny asked.

"Danny," Rick said warningly, although he himself was dearly tempted to commit an aggravated assault with his dining utensils, the audacity of the man tested the limits of his patience, but there were greater things at stake.

"One," Snape said.

_That you know of_, Danny wanted to say, but drank his glass of water instead.

"Not to mention the hundreds that I've taught and advised over the years."

"Every parent is bound to make some mistakes," Rick said civilly, through gritted teeth.

"True enough," Snape said taking a sip from his glass of red wine. "However, I would rather not have my daughter suffer from the consequences."

"Perhaps you can benefit from our experience then," Rick countered, trying to gain the upper hand. "Learn from our mistakes."

"How do you rebottle a spilt potion?" Snape asked. "Once the damage is done there is often very little to be salvaged from the mess."

"I hope you're not implying that we've damaged Sera," Bev said with an edge in her voice.

"No, not at all," Snape replied spearing a head of broccoli.

He scorned the futile attempts of the Keatings to connect with him. They didn't seem to understand that they would no longer be a part of Seraphina's life.

It was for their benefit. Death Eaters were notorious for not just killing one person, but a person's entire family. It was like weeding a garden to them. The undesirable plant had to be destroyed to its very roots so that it would never produce another like it.

Snape was determined to sever the connections between the Keatings and his daughter. They had served their purpose in her life. In gratitude, he was saving them from a torturous demise.

The Keatings, blinded by their love for their adopted daughter, couldn't see the larger implications of Sera's true heritage. A genealogy complicated by the fact that she was neither a pureblood nor a half-blood, but in that in-between category of mixed-blood. Some extremists held that one drop of Muggle blood polluted the entire person.

As a half-blood, Severus had suffered the prejudices of the high and mighty purebloods. He had to work twice as hard to climb the ladder of success. And he still smarted from the times he'd been kicked down a peg or two.

Severus had thought his life couldn't possibly get worse – but Fate determined to prove him wrong had brought this into his life. A joke, fourteen years in the making, Snape is a father.

_I'm a father_, he thought. It was still a foreign concept to him. For better, more likely for the worse, this girl was flesh of his flesh. She was his responsibility. Another albatross tied around his neck.

The disastrous luncheon finally over, Mr. and Mrs. Keating surprised Severus by asking him to join them in the family library.

The three-story townhouse understated the wealth of the Keating fortune. It was obvious they were well-to-do and liberal-minded with all the Muggle gadgets they had about. The family was a mix of old money from Mr. Keating and new money of shady origins from Mrs. Keating. Fortunately, they had not spoiled his daughter with expensive taste. It was not something he could afford on a professor's salary. Most of his costs of living were taken care of by living at Hogwarts and he had a good amount stashed away, but it was probably pocket-change compared to the millions of galleons the Keatings held in their vaults.

The library reminded him of his own childhood home, Spinner's End. Books had been his companions, not the Muggle children that shouted and ran up and down the sidewalk.

"Please have a seat, professor," Mr. Keating said.

Severus took to an overstuffed armchair.

"Can I get you a drink, professor?" Mrs. Keating offered.

"No, thank you."

She poured herself a glass of water as Mr. Keating brought out a large box and placed on the coffee table in front of them.

"These are Sera's medical records and academic reports," Mr. Keating said removing the lid off the box. The documents were neatly filed and labeled chronologically. "The most pertinent information we've compiled in one report. It lists the names and ways to get in touch with them."

"Most important person to reach in the event of a medical emergency is Dr. Elaine Engels."

"The _Muggle_ Healer," he said derision.

Bev took a deep breath. "Whatever you think of us, how determined you are to sabotage this meeting, you must know that we love Sera. Elaine has treated her since she was five years old, our daughter trusts her, and she's saved Sera's life. Don't make Sera suffer because you've got something against Muggles. After all, Sera is a quarter-Muggle."

Snape concealed his surprise. Yes, of course, the Keatings had done their homework.

Mr. Keating brought over another box and uncovered it.

It was filled with Muggle texts, with titles like, _Asperger's Syndrome: A Guide for Parents and Professionals_, _Pretending to be Normal: Living with Asperger's Syndrome_, and _Practical Solutions to Everyday Challenges for Children with Asperger Syndrome_.

"You must be joking," Severus said.

"This isn't a laughing matter professor," Rick said stonily. "There's no material in the Wizarding world about the illness. Obviously some of the material is applicable and some isn't. Bev and I have tabbed some of the pages we found most useful. I'd recommend starting with this _Asperger Syndrome and Your Child _this and definitely this one, _Asperger Syndrome and Difficult Moments: Practical Solutions for Tantrums, Rage and Meltdowns_." Mr. Keating put the books back into the box and sat next to his wife.

The Keatings were trying to intimidate him. Snape found it hard to believe that the quiet little girl he had just met was capable of any tantrums, rages and meltdowns. She was peculiar to be sure, slicing her roast beef into squares. However, what Mr. and Mrs. Keating were suggesting was too much.

"The first thing you have to understand about Sera is her need for order," Bev said. "It might appear like she's high strung if she wants things arranged a certain way, but it's a compulsive need. If those needs aren't met, she gets resistant. She may start fidgeting, kicking, rocking back-and-forth, screaming and… she may accidentally magically break things, particularly glass."

"You indulge her in these childish tantrums," Snape observed.

"Over the years, Sera's learned to control herself," Rick said ignoring the comment. He was determined to instruct Snape in Parenting Seraphina Class 101. "She was doing great before this. The trial has caused her to revert to some of her earlier behaviors. Things she hasn't done in years."

"So this is _my fault_?"

"No, this isn't about blaming anyone," Mr. Keating explained sternly looking directly into the professor's eyes. "Sera isn't coping well. We want what's best for her. We're trying to help you professor, whether you want it or not, because if we don't we'll be sending her out like a lamb to the slaughter."

"But you allow a wolf to keep her company," Snape said.

"Roscoe has been with Sera, since she was seven. They're inseparable," Mrs. Keating informed him matter-of-factly.

Snape was unmoved. "Children are allowed a choice of three pets at Hogwarts cats, toads and owls. No wolves allowed."

"He's only half-Artic wolf," Rick said, "and part Siberian Husky. If Sera doesn't already dislike you for taking her away from us, she will if you force her to give up Roscoe."

"I shall give it due consideration," Snape said, "but no promises," he added.

* * *

It had been explained to Seraphina at length that she would be going to live with her biological father. It did not seem possible to her like an imaginary number that only existed theoretically.

When her mother packed her clothing and things, she would unpack them and return everything to its proper place. This was followed by a lecture and another lengthy discussion of how much her parents loved her and would make sure she was well taken care of.

Danny rented a film called, _Braveheart,_ and tried to speak to her in a strange accented English.

Auntie Lori gave her twice as many kisses and hugs than was normal.

Sera was put in charge of gathering Roscoe's belongings together. It was the one concession Professor Snape had made. The dog would be allowed to accompany Sera. She attempted to communicate the move to Roscoe. He did not seem to understand and was disturbed at his owner's confiscation of his toys and began to hide them in the backyard. Will helped her unearth the dog's possessions.

At night, her father put aside the many letters and papers he had been sending out daily to his friends, colleagues and the professor to read aloud to her as was their tradition. Tonight Odysseus, the warrior king, conqueror of Troy, outwitted the Cyclops and upon his escape from the island of Lotus-Eaters, made a burnt-offering to Zeus, but the god regarded it not.

"We spent the rest of the day until sunset in feasting, eating full and drinking deep," Rick said reading the last lines of the chapter, "and when the sun set and darkness came on, we lay to rest on the seashore. Then at dawn I directed the men in all haste to embark and throw off the moorings. They were soon aboard and rowing away in good fettle over the sea. So we fared onwards, thankful to be alive, but sorrowing for our comrades whom we had lost."

* * *

**Dayz-n-Passions-luvr – **Thanks. More surprises on the way when Sera goes to Hogwarts.

**The Enchanted Teakettle **– You really tend to the more villainous characters, don't you? Umm… can't say much about the junior minions. Wait and see. Glad you liked Bellatrix. Snape is difficult for me to write. He's sarcastic, but yeah shouting isn't his style. Thanks for the constructive criticism.

**SailorHecate **– Thanks for reviewing. Glad you find it interesting.

**dancer8428 – **Thanks! Do you find the concept that Sera is Snape's child less disturbing now?

**ShyOrangette – **Yeah, Snape feels sorry for himself.

**Thanks to all who read and review.**


	30. Chapter 30 Little Lamb, Part 2

**Chapter 30 – Little Lamb, Part 2**

* * *

Bellatrix had nothing left. Her marriage was destroyed. Her faith in the Dark Lord shattered. Her daughter tainted with the blood of Snape's filthy Muggle father. Damn him. Damn them all. 

She cast a warming charm on her wool cloak as the chill of night descended. The forest ground was muddy from last night's rains. She was living in a Muggle log cabin in the woods abandoned for the winter season. No one would suspect Bellatrix Black of living in such a place. She could hardly believe it herself.

It sufficed. Every inch of the place had been Scourgified to rid it of the filthy Muggle stench. There was one bed and bath, a kitchenette and a small living room. It belonged to some fisherman who was enamored with rainbow trout and bass. The owner would sleep with the fish if he chose to return too early. That is if he could find it.

Bellatrix had begun to set up her defenses. Firstly, a Confundus Charm encircled one square mile from the cabin in all directions. Anyone crossing its boundary line would think himself lost. If they ventured further, they'd fall prey to the Anixus Jinx, becoming stricken with fear and panic. Now if they were smart, they'd flee to safety. If they weren't so smart, and continued on the path, terror would overwhelm their nervous system and the world would be rid of one more Muggle.

Once she was settled in, the fun would begin, she would plot her revenge. No one betrayed a Black without suffering the painful consequences.

* * *

_**Mary had a little lamb,  
Its fleece was white as snow,  
And every where that Mary went  
The lamb was sure to go;  
He followed her to school one day—  
That was against the rule,  
It made the children laugh and play,  
To see a lamb at school. **_

– Sarah Josepha Buell Hale (1788–1879)

* * *

**October 31st 1995**

All-Hallow's-Eve

_Samhain_

The Hogwarts School was decorated for the Sabbat with giant pumpkins grown by Hagrid. They'd been carved into vast jack-o'-lanterns lighted with candles. A horde of bats flew helter-skelter over the House tables, while below them a feast would shortly be appearing on golden plates. A troupe of fire-eaters readied their torches to entertain the children.

However, there would be one person missing from the festivities. For the first time in fifteen years, Professor Snape would not be in attendance, though he doubted his absence would arouse any suspicions. The staff knew of course, Flitwick would be taking over his rounds tonight. Because tonight the bat of the dungeons would be staying in, which is where, frankly, he would prefer to be, rather than standing out in the night cold holding a lantern behind the chained gates of Hogwarts awaiting the arrival of the Keatings.

They were late. Severus could hardly expect them to be early, he supposed. He had chosen Samhain for the transfer because the day's festivities would lessen the amount of attention paid to the arrival of his daughter. He had prepared a room for her adjoining the parlor of his private quarters. They were not as luxurious as she was probably used to but she would have to learn to adjust and be grateful she didn't have to share a room with four strangers. That is, if Seraphina, had been a normal child, then she could have become a regular student at the school. She would've been sorted into the appropriate House, attended classes, played Gobstones or Exploding Snap with her schoolmates, and generally been out of his way.

But his child was not normal.

She was an invalid, who needed looking after, indefinitely.

Snape had paid attention to every word the Keatings had said about Sera's condition. He read the summary report they had compiled with a measure of gratitude. It laid out Sera's routine. Every minute of the day was accounted for from the time she opened her eyes in the morning at 7:11am till she closed them at 11:13pm.

The girl's education was overseen by a Mr. Eugene Nordstadt, who arranged for a rotation of tutors to visit the girl at the mostly at an institute, which he directed. Norstadt himself tutored Sera in Transfiguration and Charms, in which Severus noted, she was woefully behind, due to the binding of her magic. Advanced Biology and Earth Sciences were taught by a Ms. Linda Zeferelli. Sera was taking a Muggle correspondence course in fractal geometry. She went to the home of a Mrs. Glenda Gould to be taught music composition for the piano and given cello lessons. Sera's main project was in the impressive field of quantum mechanics with which she was collaborating with two university professors of the Massachusetts University of MagiSciences. At home, Mrs. Delamere, a Muggle professor, gave her lessons in the 'Humanities,' a mixture of mythology, literature, social studies and history, depending on the woman's fancy. On weekends, a Mr. Janowsky, coached Sera in Wizarding Chess and she had been scheduled to compete in the national tournament in May.

Clearly, there were more adjustments to be made. Severus would supervise Sera's education in Charms, Transfiguration, and to make-up for the loss of Biology and Earth Sciences, she would begin Potions at once. No daughter of his was going to be ignorant of his craft. Also to be chucked would be the Humanities; instead he would assign a History book and quiz her on the material occasionally. Owls could be sent to special relay stations designed to send mail to Muggles, so Sera could continue her correspondence course and also with her letter-writing to Professors Holt and Mustafa. Mr. Janowsky had been coaching Sera free of charges, so if the man wanted to come all the way to Hogwarts and continue to do so, Severus was not adverse to the idea. There was a piano in Ravenclaw Tower. Severus had consulted with Flitwick who had been more than happy to give his daughter a slot of time once a week to practice and Sera could play the cello in his quarters.

Thirteen years ago, when Severus had learned of the bargain the Lestranges had struck, he had been horrified by the idea of having to watch his child be raised by the Malfoys and turned into a hate mongering spoiled brat. He had considered it a blessing of sorts that the child had been stillborn. He should have known it had been too easy. Fate was a cruel bitch as far as he was concerned. His mistakes always seemed to return to him tenfold.

And now it was arriving in a horse-drawn carriage. Make that two horse-drawn carriages. Snape took out his wand and tapped on the padlock of the gates once. The chains snaked backward and the gates creaked open.

They drew to a stop and the occupants clambered out. Severus noted that they had all had the sense to dress like Wizarding folk for a change.

"Blessed Be, Professor Snape," Beverly greeted him.

Snape arched an eyebrow at the traditional greeting from the modern witch. "Blessed Be, Mrs. Keating," he responded, it was All-Hallow's-Eve after all.

Greetings and blessings were exchanged all around. The Keating boys unloaded the luggage from the carriage. Mrs. Keating murmured reminders to the girl.

The whole Keating clan had come out to see Seraphina off. Mr. Keating introduced him to only member of the family he hadn't already met, a Mrs. Evelyn Keating, the man's mother and the so-called grandmother of the girl.

Mr. Keating left Severus with Madame Keating as he went to his daughter.

"Look honey, it's a castle," Mr. Keating said to the girl picking her up and pointing.

_The child isn't bloody well blind, man_, Severus thought, as the old woman in front of him railed about how unfair the whole affair was and how he was a horrible monster for tearing apart her family…

"It looks beautiful, doesn't it?" Mr. Keating asked Sera still holding her, as though the girl were a toddler and not a teenager, "You get to live in a castle, just like a real princess."

"Yes, father," Severus heard the girl say. It irked him to hear her call Keating that. "It is beautiful."

Then the man finally, put his daughter down and kissed the top of her head, "Not as pretty as my princess though."

_Oh please_, Severus felt nauseated.

"These are your belongings, I assume," Snape said loudly, pointing at the ten pieces of matching luggage, with his wand. With a flick of the wrist, the suitcases and trunks levitated off the ground. Roscoe barked at the sudden movement. "It is time to say your farewells, Seraphina."

"Wait a minute," Mrs. Keating said. "Couldn't we show her _to_ the castle?"

"Oh, I suppose I should invite you to my quarters and offer you tea and biscuits," Snape scoffed.

"Yes, you should!" Rick said angrily, and then reining in his emotions, he apologized, "I'm sorry, we would just like to see the _interior _of where Sera will be living.

"Let me think," Severus said somewhat maliciously. "No."

"Oh, Come on! Why do you have to be such a jackass?" demanded Danny.

"Such lovely children you have Mr. and Mrs. Keating," Snape remarked coldly. "Say your goodbyes, Seraphina."

"Goodbye, Auntie Lori," said Sera.

"Goodbye, my luv," she said hugging the girl tightly and kissing the top of the girl's head. The auburn haired woman brushed away tears from her eyes.

"Goodbye, Grandmother."

Evelyn embraced her only granddaughter. "I love you, my darling. And I'll hex anyone to Timbuktu, who harms a hair on your head," she said for the professor's benefit.

"Goodbye, Will."

Will gave her a quick hug. "Goodbye Sera. If anyone messes with you, let them know you have two older brothers who will beat the living –"

"Will!" Bev admonished.

"Er – just write me if anyone bullies you," he finished lamely.

"Goodbye Danny."

He gave her a quick hug as well. "Remember sis," he said clearing his throat. "It's all for nothing if you don't have FREEDOM," he bellowed in his mock Scottish accent.

Professor Snape snorted. That one Keating boy appeared to be touched in the head.

"I will remember," Sera replied.

"Your brother was just joking, honey," Beverly said as she embraced her daughter.

"No, I wasn't. It's good advice," Danny said smiling bittersweetly.

"I love you, Sera," she said tucking loose strands of the girl's hair behind her ear. "Whatever happens I'll always love you," she kissed her on both cheeks.

"I love you, mother," Sera said. She wrapped her arms around her mother's waist.

It was a lingering embrace. Snape became impatient and cleared his throat audibly.

"We haven't got all night," he said, when the two still refused to separate.

Bev tried to gently push her daughter away. "That's enough, Sera."

"No, mother," came the reply.

"Sera, please," Bev said tearfully. The girl clung to her waist.

Bev was at a lost as to what to do. This wasn't like sending the boys off to kindergarten.

"Sera you have to let go," Bev managed to say, wiping away her tears. She didn't want Sera to remember her crying.

"No mother," she repeated.

"For Merlin's sake," Snape said reaching out to grab the girl by the shoulders.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on her," Rick said with his wand drawn.

"Oh please," Snape said in an exasperated tone, "Are you seriously, challenging me to a duel?"

"Yes, right here. Right now," he answered.

"NO," Bev said.

"I'll second you dad," Will said.

"Have you all lost your minds?" Loretta intervened. "Rick, Will, put away your sticks. And you, buster," she gestured at Severus. "Can't you see that she's terrified? You're a stranger tah her. A stranger who has shown nothing but contempt for the people that she loves and has no qualms about showin' it either. Of course, she doesn't want to let go of Beverly."

"Then what do you suggest we do, Madame?" Severus asked.

"Let Rick and Beverly take Sera into the school. To show her it's alright. That you won't be throwin' her in the dungeons or somewhat," she advised wisely though with a regrettable choice of words.

"Would that be agreeable to you Seraphina?" asked Snape.

"Yes, professor," she said releasing her hold on Mrs. Keating.

It was the first time she had addressed him since hello.

"Fine," Snape conceded and headed for the gates with the luggage trailing behind. "Come along then, we've wasted enough time standing out in the cold."

"We'll meet you back at the Three Broomsticks," Bev said quickly.

"Come on, princess," Rick said taking Sera by the hand. They waved at the rest of her family from behind the bars as Professor Snape shut the gates and tapped the chains with his wand, so that they slithered, back into place. Roscoe barked his farewells and received his last pats on the head before following his mistress up the road.

"This is Hogwarts," Severus announced said as they reached the stone steps of the castle. He tapped the ancient oak doors and they swung open into a vast hallway.

A burst of noise broke the silence of night there was loud talking and laughter and clinking of plates and glasses. Sera focused her attention on the flagstones beneath her feet.

Snape set the luggage down against the wall of the hallway. The house elves would see that they were placed in his quarters. "Follow me, Seraphina, Mr. and Mrs. Keating."

Snape had wished to avoid making a spectacle of his daughter's entrance to Hogwarts, but the presence of three strangers and the white wolf drew unwanted attention from students, who gaped and whispered as they passed.

Rick and Bev noticed the way students moved from the man's path. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea. He walked uncommonly fast causing his robes to billow behind him. Rick, Bev and Sera kept up with him as he led them down a narrow staircase.

"Where are you taking us?" Bev asked.

"To my quarters," Snape said.

"This is a joke," Rick said, remembering his aunt's words. "You can't really live in the dungeons."

Severus stopped at a dark mahogany-wood door at the far end of the cold passageway and opened the door with a flick of his wand. "These are my private rooms," he said ushering them in. "Seraphina shall be residing here with me."

"This is the parlor," he said gesturing at the couch and two armchairs by the fireplace, an end table, and standing lamp. There was a small kitchenette tucked away in an alcove and a squarish table. "And," Severus said striding over to a door at the other end of the room, "this is Seraphina's room."

The room was furnished but looked bare. There was a bed, a desk against the far wall, a book case, a dresser with a mirror, and a closet.

"It's too cold here for Seraphina," Mrs. Keating remarked.

Severus pointed his wand at the fireplace igniting a roaring fire.

"Where's your bedroom?" asked Rick, in his lawyerly voice as Bev called it.

"The door straight across," he said pointing to another dark door on the other side of the room.

"Bathroom?" Rick's interrogation continued.

At this point the professor's face fell just for a split-second, before saying, "The toilet is through my room door on the left."

Rick grimaced. "That's inconvenient."

"Well, I find it most convenient," Snape replied back. "Sera, are either your arms or legs broken?"

"No, professor, my arms and legs are not broken."

"Then, Sera, seeing as how you are not physically handicapped and that your limbs are functioning properly, do you think that you capable of walking a distance of five yards and knocking on a door?"

"Yes, I am capable of walking a – "

"Thank you," Snape interrupted. "You've answered the question sufficiently." His expression was smug and self-assured.

Rick breathed deeply to hold his temper. She could sense his ire at Snape's manipulation of their daughter's answers to undermine him.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" Bev asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Mother, I think I want to go home," she answered.

* * *

They left the dungeons and Bev was grateful the professor had allowed for Seraphina and Roscoe to escort her and Rick to the gates, after extracting a promise from her daughter not to linger on her farewells. As they passed the Great Hall, an elderly wizard with half-moon glasses, a long crooked nose, and flowing silver, hair, beard and mustache, stopped to greet them. 

"Ah-Severus, I was hoping you'd make it to the Halloween feast after all," the man said, his bright blue eyes shining with mirth, "and you've brought guests, my how delightful."

"Headmaster Dumbledore, may I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Keating, my daughter Seraphina and her pet, Roscoe," Snape said. "We were just showing the Keatings on their way _out_."

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," Rick said stepping forward to shake the man's hand.

"Yes," Bev agreed, amazed to be coming face to face with a living legend. "Your defeat of Grindelwald… you saved so many."

Dumbledore took her hand in his warm wrinkled one and patted it gently. "Enough, you are making me blush, dear."

Then he moved towards her daughter, "Hello, Seraphina."

"Hello, Headmaster Dumbledore," she answered not looking up, but staring at the flagstones beneath her feet.

"No, not be rude, Sera. Look at the professor, when you are speaking to him," Snape told her.

"No, I understand. It must be overwhelming to be in a new place with so many different people. It does help to think of it as the beginning of a great adventure," he said to her. "Come, you must all join our most excellent feast. The house-elves attempt to outdo themselves every year."

"No, professor. I'm afraid the Keatings are very tired from their long journey and…"

"More reason to stay and refresh themselves," Professor Dumbledore interrupted, "Now, tell me, Mrs. Keating, have you ever had cranachan?"

"No, what is it?" she asked as he gave his arm to her, leading the group into the Great Hall.

"A traditional Scottish desert," he explained as they entered the cavernous room, "whipped cream, honey, whisky and fresh raspberries topped with toasted oatmeal."

"Sounds delicious," she said, gazing around the room. The roof was bewitched to look like the night-sky. Starlit, it was very different from the skyline of New York. Bats swooped over the four long tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the enormous jack-o'-lanterns to flicker.

"You shall have to sample some."

The uniformed students stared at them as they walked up to a raised dais where the faculty sat. Rick had take Sera by the hand, which she clutched tightly. Luckily, a few professors had vacated their seats already and others moved over, so they could sit besides each other.

"This place is incredible, headmaster," Bev said as a place setting of golden dinner was set before her. Professor Dumbledore nodded his assent as he handed her a plate of cranachan, which was as good as he had described it.

"Yes, its nothing like Sherman Wizard's Academy," Rick said cutting Sera a portion of roasted honey ham. "I swore I'd never send any of my kids there."

"Is this your daughter, Severus?" a short little old wizard with a shock of white hair, asked in a squeaky voice, his feet not reaching the floor from his seat.

"Yes," he said. "Seraphina, this is Professor Flitwick,"

"Hello, Professor Flitwick," Sera said, lifting her head from the plate but not looking the man directly in the face.

"Your father tells me that you play the piano and the violoncello. It might interest you to know that I conduct the Hogwarts Choir and Band," he informed her, "I should very much like to hear you play sometime."

There was an awkward silence when Sera did not reply.

"What do you think, honey?" Rick prodded her to answer. "Think you can play sometime for Professor Flitwick?"

"Yes, father."

"Hello, Professor Flitwick," Rick said introducing himself. "I'm Rick Keating and this gorgeous woman next to me is my wife, Beverly."

"Charmed to meet you, both," he said as they both reached to shake his hand.

Beverly hoped Snape had noticed that Sera usually only answered direct questions. Before the trial, Sera had developed some more advanced conversational repartee, especially with people she was familiar with. She would use a cheerier tone of voice, instead an emotionless monotone, though her unusual grammar and language usage remained unchanged.

It did not surprise Bev to learn from Dumbledore that Snape was the Head of the House symbolized by a snake. The man definitely struck her as cold-blooded. Right now, he was scowling at anyone who gazed too fixedly at the High Table, particularly at Sera.

In contrast, Professor Dumbledore's good-natured humor, charming personality, and hospitality was reassuring to Bev, knowing that he was in charge of Hogwarts made her feel better about leaving Sera at the castle. There were other adults about the place, teachers and staff, who cared about student welfare. If they noticed her daughter being mistreated, someone would do something, and surely, Snape wouldn't harm her daughter, under the watch of so many.

It brought to Bev's mind her correspondence with Madam Pomfrey to whom she and Rick had sent copies of Sera's medical records. Physiologically, Sera was not much different from other children besides a slightly lower body temperature. However, of concern, was Sera's immune system, which was significantly less resilient to common ailments like colds and flus, and with a student population of this size, there was bound to be something being passed around. The solution was a multi-vitamin, which Sera took with her juice in the morning and a Strengthening Potion to be taken twice a day after meals. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey's services were needed in the Hospital Wing for the evening, so Bev and Rick and were unable to meet her in person.

When dinner came to an end, she and Rick once again, found themselves at the black iron-wrought gates saying goodbye to their only daughter.

"Be a good girl, baby," she instructed Sera. "And listen to Professor Snape. You don't have to be afraid. You can always write or floo home for anything or ask another grown-up for help."

"And take care of Roscoe," she said scratching the dog's head. "He's your responsibility, now. So you have to very brave. He's going to need your help getting used to life here."

The responsibility of taking care of another living being would give Sera something else to focus on. Roscoe was her loyal companion, who could read the subtle changes in Sera's mannerisms. There was rarely any miscommunication between them. No deception. No jealousy. Sera never mistreated or loss her patience with him. In return Roscoe served as a natural deterrent to would-be-bullies. People generally thought twice about accosting a girl in the constant presence of a carnivorous animal known to enjoy hunting prey.

"Write to us, princess," Rick reminded their daughter again. "We'll be depending on your letters. Tell us how you're doing and ask for whatever you need. And always always remember that we love you," he said tugging gently on Sera's locket, a gift they had given her to remind her that wherever she went, her parents were with her. A part of them lived inside her heart.

"I will father," Sera said. "I love you too."

Bev and Rick hugged and kissed her for the last time before stepping to the other side of the gates. Professor Snape promptly locked the gates and turned away so quickly his robes swirled about him. She and Rick stood by the gates watching them walk away. Sera looked back frequently to see them waving at her. When the couple could no longer see the light of the professor's lantern, they turned to comfort each other before Apparating to the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

**November 1st 1995**

_All Souls Day_ also known as _The Day of the Dead_

Severus woke at 6:30am and went through his routine morning ablutions noticing the changes already occurring in the bathroom tiled with dark green serpentine marble juxtaposed with veined white marble. A pink cup with a purple toothbrush sat on the counter beside his glass one. A bizarre brand of toothpaste with the undescriptive name _Crest,_ promising the eradication of cavities and whiteness, competed with his own _Smiley's Peppermint_. Out of curiosity he had opened the tube and discovered the gel-like substance was a startling shade of turquoise blue with white flecks. Also new was a periwinkle blue cotton towel and wash cloth hung tidily beside his own dark green ones. Like the child the items belonged to, they were a mismatch in their new environment.

At 7:13, said child knocked on his door.

"Enter," he said, "Good morning, Seraphina."

"Good morning, professor," the girl said shuffling into his room in slippers, wearing a light blue bathrobe over her white nightgown.

The girl went to the bathroom and shut the door behind her and did whatever it was she did in the bathroom and returned to her own rooms.

Severus dressed in a long black waistcoat and trousers. He did not wear his teaching robes on weekends. He went to knock on Seraphina's door.

She opened the door. She had dressed herself sensibly, a navy blue pinafore over a white blouse, white woolen stockings, and black patent boot-like shoes that went a little past her ankles. It was the same outfit she had worn on the day Severus had visited her and it was the same one she had worn yesterday. Her hair was tied back in a half-pony tail with a white ribbon.

"Seraphina, are you wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday?" he asked.

"No, I am not wearing –"

"Then why are you wearing the same outfit you wore yesterday?"

"I am used to it," she replied.

Severus looked around the room. The girl had thoroughly unpacked. Photo frames stood on top of the dresser with the Keatings in various settings waving annoying or making faces. Books were neatly ordered on the bookshelf according to some numerical system labeled on the bindings. An entire shelf was taken up with vinyl records, which explained the small gramophone sitting a top the end table next to her bed. Her cello was leaned against a wall in the corner.

"Seraphina, may I look inside your closet?"

"Yes, professor," she said stepping aside, her head tilted towards the floor.

Her odd postures would take some getting used to.

He opened the door of the closet. Side-by-side hung virtually the same pinafore. They were different colors gray, black, burgundy, and dark olive. Also hanging were white blouses, some with rounded collars, and some with folded cuffs. He was relieved to see some skirts of varying styles. The hooded burgundy wool coat with black toggles hung she had worn yesterday hung at the end of the closet.

He had read about this. Mrs. Keating's echoed in his mind, _Sera's need for _order. And the book he was reading had spoken about _compulsive repetitive behavior_. No doubt her clothes were arranged in some order she had created.

She would be ridiculed to be sure. Then again, his own choice of dress was also a source of derision. So long as she wasn't walking about in dirty clothes, he was satisfied.

It reminded him to get her a hamper.

"Do you have any other clothes?" he asked just to be sure the Keatings had given her alternatives.

"Yes," she said. "I have fifteen pairs of socks and stockings and panties, ten sweaters, ten pairs of pants, five sets of pajamas, five night gowns, five robes –"

"Good, you have more clothes than I do," he said noticing that the number of items were all multiples of five, he felt tired. "Let us go to breakfast."

It was half-past-seven on a Saturday, so there weren't many students about, which suited Severus just fine, as he walked into the Great Hall through the faculty's side-entrance with his daughter and her canine companion for the first time.

It was unusual though not without precedent for family members of the staff to live at Hogwarts. In the past decade, the staff had aged. There were also a disproportionate number of unmarried witches without children, and others with offspring that had grownup and thankfully left.

He heard their whispers and murmurs as they sat down to eat.

"Severus's daughter…"

"Good goddess, spitting image of Bellatrix …"

"I read she's got some sort of illness, feeble-minded I think…"

"Sssh… he'll hear you…"

Severus exchanged grumbled good mornings to McGonagall, Sprout, Pince and Flitwick. He introduced Sera to them. It was more talking than was normal for him, before his first cup of coffee, which he downed and quickly had refilled.

Severus had considered changing his normal seat, to the second row table on the dais and give up his ringside seats, for the girl's sake. She, unlike the Boy Wonder, did not like to be the center of attention. However, it would hamper his view of rule-breaking students and he did not wish it to appear as though he were ashamed of her.

Sera appeared unperturbed. She concentrated on slicing off the crust of from her French toast and then dividing it into squares, which she then gingerly dipped one by one into a puddle of syrup on the side of her plate. A dish of meat cutlets and a bowl of water had appeared on the floor for the half-breed mutt, the house-elves were kind.

Severus read the _Daily Prophet, _ate his kippers, and started on his second cup of coffee in peace.

Madam Pomfrey took it upon herself to act as the girl's surrogate mother and tried to engage the girl in conversation.

"You look very pretty today, Sera."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"How are you feeling today?"

"I feel fine. How are you today?" Sera replied.

"Very well. Thank you for asking," Poppy said with smile and returned to her conversation with Minerva.

The students were now dragging their lazy-bones in. Some even slept past breakfast on the weekends.

The muttering began, "That's Snape's daughter…"

"Her mother's Bellatrix…"

"Death Eater's daughter…"

"I wonder if she calls Snape, _daddy_," one said making two silly girls giggle and his mates to laugh raucously. "Daddy, I want to be a Death Eater when I grow up," he continued to great effect.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, for mocking a _professor_."

That shut him and the others up… for now. Severus knew he couldn't punish them for gossiping about his daughter's origins, but he would be six feet under if he was going to publicly abused by a curly-haired Hufflepuff.

If Sera was disturbed by the comments, she didn't show it. Her face was blank and expressionless. One could mistake it for boredom. She finished her breakfast efficiently and retrieved a small flask, which Severus knew to contain a Strengthening Potion he himself had brewed and given to Poppy for her stores. Sera drank the thick acrid liquid without complaint.

She returned the flask to her pocket and unseen by Severus, who was preoccupied with reprimanding students; she removed a circular silver case engraved with her monogram in swirling calligraphy "SBK." She used one thin long white finger to move the tiny lever to the side flipping open the top of the case to reveal six dirty yellow pills.

She picked one up and –

"Stop!" Professor Snape said suddenly.

Sera ceased moving, her mouth slightly agape and the pill held between her thumb and index finger.

"Give it over," he said, with a proffered hand.

She shut her mouth and put her hand down, since his new set of instructions contradicted his earlier one. She hesitated as she stared at him with her head cocked at angle. _The expression on his face was one of displeasure._ _But what was he speaking about?_ she thought and began kicking with one of left leg unconsciously. _Give what over, exactly? There were twenty-seven separate items within her reach on the table. _She quickly chose the one she thought he might be referring to.

She handed him a napkin. At family meals, she was often asked 87 percent of the time to pass a napkin to someone else, because of her proximity to the napkin holder.

"No, stupid girl," he said crumpling the paper napkin into a ball and throwing it on the table, where it rolled and hit into the side of the basket of rolls. "The _pill_."

_Stupid_, Sera thought as she dropped the pill into his hand. _It was one of the words Danny got into trouble with their mother for saying to her. There was no one to report Professor Snape to. Sera did not know his mother. _She felt the urge to scream her frustration, but instead she did the multiplication table backwards starting from 9,999. She had promised her mother and father to obey the professor.

"What is this?" he asked, examining the pill that was the approximate size and color of flobberworm larvae.

"It is a multi-vitamin," she said nonplussed.

"And what is a multi-vitamin?"

"It's a Muggle pill," Poppy interjected.

_A Muggle pill_, _the woman said it as though it was some innocuous placebo_, he thought.

"She takes one every morning," Poppy informed him. "It's perfectly safe, Severus I assure you."

He stared at the dirty yellow pill in his hand with suspicion. Why did Poppy know about this when he did not? "What exactly is contained inside it?"

"Vitamins and minerals," Poppy said. "Things that will bolster her immune system. It won't counteract the potion if that's what you're worried about. Beverly consulted a Healer to make sure. Your mother's just lovely, Seraphina."

"Can we get back to the subject at hand, Poppy. _Which_ vitamins and minerals does this Muggle pill contain?"

"Lots of them… but I don't know specifically," she admitted.

"It has Vitamins A, B, C, D, E – " Sera began to chant, tapping on the bottom beam of the table as she

He gave his daughter a curious look, "Why are you reciting the alphabet, Sera?"

"I am telling you what is contained in the pill."

"What are Vitamins A, B, C?"

"Vitamin A is Acetate. Vitamin B is Beta-Carotene. Vitamin C is Ascorbic Acid."

It was Muggle shorthand for the Vitamins. Well, the Keatings wouldn't give their daughter anything dangerous to ingest. It had merely surprised him. They had been so detailed in their 'instruction' packet after all. What else had they left out? The clothing, for one thing, they were so used to Sera's idiosyncrasies that it did no longer registered as aberrance.

"Sera are you consuming any other Muggle pills?" he asked her as she swallowed the multi-vitamin.

"I am consuming one right at the moment," she said swallowing hard to keep the pill down.

He clapped a hand to his forehead. "Must you be so literal, child," he said exasperated. He understood now how carefully he had to word things he said to her. "Sera, do you take medicines other than the Strengthening Potion and the multivitamin?"

"No."

Severus began his third cup of coffee.

"Professor Snape," she said. "May I please go on a walk outside with Roscoe?"

"Yes," he said, closing his paper, crinkling its pages, "I suppose I should accompany you, since the grounds are unfamiliar to you."

They returned to his quarters for the appropriate outerwear. It nettled him slightly that she was wearing burgundy, the color of the rival house. It wasn't the garish shade of red the Gryffindors sported, but still. He requested that Sera keep the hound on a leash, so he wouldn't wander into the Forbidden Forest.

They walked along the western shore of the Great Lake, and then doubled back passing the Quidditch Pitch. The sunlight was weak in the autumn season and chill wind blew.

The wolf did his business against the stone wall and Sera pointed her wand at the dog's feces with her wand. Without even uttering the word, _Evanesco_, it was gone. Interesting.

Sera put up the hood of her coat as the gusts became stronger.

Some passing students dared to point at them occasionally, he heard their voices carried on the back of the winds.

"Death Eater's girl…"

"Not even married to Bellatrix…" _Goddess forbid_, Severus thought.

"She's a bastard."

Severus was glad of Sera's stoicism. He didn't know how he would deal with an angst ridden teenager crying to him about things that he couldn't change.

"When we return, I thought we might iron – I mean _plan_ out your schedule for the coming week," he said. "What do you think?" he added when there was no reply.

"Yes, professor. I like to plan," she said.

* * *

**The Enchanted Teakettle **– I'm glad you liked Danny and that my writing of Snape has improved. It's hard to think how'd he'd react exactly to having a daughter like Sera. 

**SailorHecate **– Thanks. The Keatings and Company send their thanks as well.**  
**

**Jessica – **Snape figured allowing Roscoe to come would make the transition for Sera easier and thereby make it easier on him in the long term. Besides, Hagrid has Fang.

**dancer8428 – **Yes, I totally agree that people with Asperger's Syndrome can go about life normally. Sera's case is complicated by the fact of the Dementor exposure. And I love Snape too.

**LMTran – **Snape has to pretend like he doesn't care Sera, because one, he doesn't know how to, but also because he doesn't want anyone to use her against him. He's very much into fulfilling his duties and obligation and files Sera under that category. Yes, I agree with you about the Keatings fighting harder to keep her and initially I had written more about British law. My premise is that its very archaic and not into modern concepts like "best interests of the child." Instead, children are property of their parents till they become of age. Also, the Keatings didn't want to put Sera through the ordeal and publicity of another trial, one they felt they had little chance of winning. More to come, my friend. I think I'm on a writing binge. Hopefully, I'm not exchanging quanitity for quality.

**Thanks to all who read and review. **


	31. Chapter 31 Little Lamb, Part 3

**Chapter 31 – Little Lamb, Part 3**

**November 1st 1995**

_All-Soul's-Day_ also known as _The Day of the Dead_

Neville went to the shed behind Greenhouse 4 at half-past-six. He knocked thrice on the gray wooden plank door. The door opened a crack and a brown-eye peeped out, then the door was opened wide enough for him to pass through it.

Huddled inside were Dean Thomas, a tall dark-skinned Gryffindor, Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff with her chocolate-brown hair in a long plait down her back, and a Ravenclaw, he didn't know who had opened the door.

"Glad you came Longbottom. I'm Brian Carr. It was me that gave the note to your mate, Dean," said the Ravenclaw boy, clapping him on the shoulder.

Dean had slipped Neville the crumpled note with the time and location of this place, underneath the table during Divination, when Professor Trelawney had given yet another prediction about Harry's impending doom after noting that Harry's life line was unusually short for someone of his years.

Neville was unsure of why he had been summoned, when supper was about to be served in the Great Hall. The shed was cold and dank compared to the warmth of the castle. From the amount of rust on the gardening tools, he doubted the shed was often used.

"Yeah," Neville said, "So what did you want me for?"

"We'll get to that, but first," Brian said importantly, "we must all swear on our words as wizards never to tell anyone about this meeting. Ever. Except to each other, of course," he amended.

"I'm not swearing tah anything, till I know what you're goin' on about," Susan said, her arms crossed over her chest, which Neville couldn't help noticing had expanded since their last year.

"Alright," Brian sighed in an annoyed manner, "then answer me, this, what do we all have in common in this room?"

"We're all Hogwarts students," Neville observed.

Brian snickered. "Yeah, but what else?" he asked impatiently.

Dean shook his head and Susan swatted at a cobweb near her shoulder.

"What we all have in common here is that we've all lost family to You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters," Brian spat out passionately. "And it's up to us to not let anyone forget them. People should remember that our relatives lost their lives standing up to those bastards."

"How?" Susan asked.

Neville had joined Dumbledore's Army though the three gathered here didn't know about it.

"I'll tell you, if you take out your wand and swear never to tell anyone about this meeting," Brian said, his heated breath forming clouds in the frosty air.

"Wait," Neville said cautiously. "Then why isn't Harry or any of the Weasleys here? They've lost family too."

"Because Harry is friends with that goody-goody, Hermione Granger, a prefect. She doesn't even let the Weasleys off. Also, she's Muggleborn. She doesn't know what the War was like. She hasn't lost anyone like we have. She'd rat us out to McGonagall in a heartbeat," Brian said. "Now, swear."

Dean, Susan and then a reluctant Neville took out their wands and tapped their wands together swearing themselves to secrecy.

"Good," Brian said, putting down his wand. "You all know that Bellatrix's daughter has come to Hogwarts."

Neville knew. How could he not? The Gryffindor common room had been abuzz with the news after the first and second years had returned from breakfast. The older students tended to sleep in on Saturdays. There'd been lewd comments made about Snape's sexual prowess and what the congress between him and Bellatrix must have been like. One of the girl's thought it was darkly romantic – a forbidden love affair. It was unthinkable to Neville that Snape could ever have loved or been loved by another person, that is, unless they were as twisted and evil as he was. In those respects, Bellatrix was a perfect match.

The daughter, they had brought into the world was the reason why his godfather Allan McCalister was presently locked up in Azkaban for kidnapping. The former Chief Auror had been sentenced to thirteen years. The judge said he was to pay for everyday he'd taken the girl away from her family, the Malfoys, for the pain and grief he had caused them. What about the pain and grief the Malfoys caused? What about Neville's parents? Who paid for all the time he had lost with them? Did anyone remember them – Frank and Alice Longbottoms, those 'poor people who'd lost their minds'?

"Yeah – I know," Neville answered, clenching his jaw.

Susan nodded and said, "They say she even looks like her mum, when she was younger that is."

"So, what about her?" Dean asked with a shrug.

"Aren't you angry?" Brian demanded and looked at them incredulously. "How can you be alright with her walkin' about, bein' in the same room as you, eatin' the same food as you, breathin' the same air? How can you possibly stomach it?"

"I don't like it," Susan said. "But there's nothing we can do about. She's Snape's daughter too yah know."

"Yeah, another Death Eater," Brian said. "I don't know why Dumbledore lets him work here. It's like asking the fox to guard the hen house. But this is too much. Having that girl here is like spitting on me mum's grave. I lost her to that scumbag Rabastan Lestrange. She wouldn't have any of him and he killed her for it."

"Just like they killed yer father, Dean. How do you think he'd feel about this? And you Susan," Brian said rounding onto her, "They murdered yer uncle, yer aunt, two little cousins and even yer grandparents. That's six people! That's more than any of us put together. Haven't you got any feelings about all this? How can you eat your breakfast watching that girl sit at the High Table lookin' down on yah?"

"And you Neville," Brian said coming towards him.

"I – I know what they did," Neville interrupted. "I don't need tah hear it from you."

"Good," Brian praised. "We'll be needing that Gryffindor spirit. We need to send a message to everyone that we haven't forgotten them. We're not going to sit back and let Death Eaters takeover our school."

"Dumbledore's not against it, so what can we do about it?" Dean asked.

"We can make her leave," Brian said.

"How do we do that?" Susan queried.

"By making this place a living hell for her," Brian answered her coldly.

"You mean you want to bully her," Neville interjected.

"No, it's not the same thing," Brian denied. "We're not going to hurt her. We're just going to make it clear that she's not welcome here."

"I don't see a difference," Neville rebuked shaking his head. Godfather Allan had always said the trick to fighting evil was not to become it. Fight the bully, don't become one yourself.

"What you don't know Neville," Brian sneered, "could fill the great library of Alexandria.

If you don't want any part in this, then leave Neville," he continued imperiously, "if you're alright with having her eat up at the High Table and walking on the same grass as you, then just leave. What about the rest of you?"

"I'm in," Dean said with resolve.

Neville glanced over at Susan. Her mouth was set in a look of determination.

So without another word, Neville left the gray wooden shed behind.

* * *

**November 2nd 1995**

Sera woke at 7:11am. She put on her slippers and bathrobe.

At 7:13am she knocked on the professor's door.

"Come in," he said, "Good morning, Seraphina."

"Good morning, professor," she answered, as she headed to the bathroom.

She used the toilet, and then showered for thirteen minutes, and brushed her teeth for two more, before returning to her room. Roscoe was awake and sitting up on his rug waiting to be brushed. After grooming him, Sera checked him for signs of ill health and found none.

It was the first Sunday of the month, so she selected her olive green pinafore and matched it with the peter pan collared shirt and the white wool stocking with the diamond pattern. She brushed her hair in nineteen strokes and tied it back in a half-pony tail with a white ribbon. Lastly, she put on her shoes and tied her laces in double-butterfly knots.

It was now 7:40am. She made her bed carefully smoothing out the corners. She sat at her desk and waited. It was now 7:42. At 7:46 the professor knocked on the door to summon her to breakfast. He was one minute late.

_It was not a good start, _she thought.

The entered the Great Hall and the professor sat down in the fifth chair from the left. She sat down in the seventh chair.

"Why are you sitting away from me?" he asked.

"I am sitting in the right chair," she explained, kicking the leg of the seat.

"Why is the chair next to me the wrong chair?"

"It is sixth," she answered.

"Sixth," he repeated and comprehended what she was going on about. "Well, Seraphina, I will not play along with your little number games. Your foster parents indulged your little eccentricities, but I do not tolerate nonsense from my students and I will certainly not take it from my own daughter. If you will not sit in the chair next to me, then you may sit on the floor."

With a flick of his wand he removed her chair causing Sera to fall abruptly onto the flagstones.

Roscoe barked loudly at this rousing the attention of a few students and staff members.

"No, Roscoe!" Sera ordered quickly, before the professor could reprimand the beast.

The white dog whimpered and ducked his head down. Sera patted his head and folded her legs underneath her. The stones were hard and cold to sit on, but Roscoe's closeness provided her with some warmth. He ate while she stroked his fur, warming her hands at the same time.

The professor opened up his morning paper and drank his coffee as usual.

Seraphina hummed to herself and ran her fingers through Roscoe's soft white fur.

"Severus," McGonagall said, who had watched the proceedings with growing concern.

"Minerva," Severus said lightly, "Good morning. I'd ask you not to ruin it any further by giving me unsolicited advice on how to raise my own child."

The Head of Gryffindor House pursed her lips and stirred her tea in an irritated fashion.

Professor Flitwick who had taken the seat closest to Sera attempted to slip her a buttered scone was met with immediate opposition.

"Filius, my daughter is not an animal to be fed scraps from the table, kindly cease and desist," Severus said turning the page of his newspaper so violently the photo image of Minister Fudge fell out of the picture's borders.

"What's going on?" Lupin asked immediately sensing raised tensions as he took his seat at the High Table. "Is that Severus's daughter sitting under the table?"

"Minerva says she's being punished for something," Flitwick replied to his colleague in a whispered squeak. "I tried to give her a scone but he'd have none of it."

"It's cruel," Vector admonished from the table behind them. "Look, even her dog is being fed."

Indeed he was. Roscoe was eating chunks of meat from a blue bowl the house-elves had set out for him, while the girl hummed in a low tone, rocked back and forth, and ruffled the dog's hairs.

"And Severus reads his paper and eats. She's ill, you know," Vector said putting down her fork and turned towards the object of her scorn, "Severus, perhaps she doesn't understand what you want. It's not right what you're doing."

"She understands perfectly well," Snape said, gripping the sides of his paper tightly. "She is acting in an insolent, disobedient and spoiled fashion. I am doing what any responsible parent should do, I am disciplining her. When you have children, Septima, you may let them run wild, let me raise mine in peace." He gulped down the rest of his coffee and stood up. "Sera, we are leaving now."

The girl continued humming to herself, rocking back and forth, and stroking the dog's fur.

"Seraphina," the Potions Master said, standing directly behind her, "we are leaving now."

When she didn't respond again, he bent down and grabbed her by the shoulder with one hand.

She screamed, one piercing terror stricken cry that echoed through the Great Hall.

Roscoe sprang into action barking and snarling at Severus. He released her shoulder at once having a terrible flashback. The professor visibly blanched and backed away.

The dog halted his attack and tended to Sera instead, nudging at the girl's side with his snout. She had shut her eyes tightly and covered her ears with her hands. Her rocking motions had become more vigorous and the tune she had been humming could be distinctly made out to be the melody of the _Itsy-Bitsy-Spider_.

"Merlin, Severus. What did you do?" Vector said in alarm.

The students that half-filled the tables of the Great Hall, stared flabbergasted at the sight of the black-haired girl having a fit underneath the High Table.

"Out of the way, Severus," Madame Pomfrey said bending down, "you too, Roscoe," she said shooing the dog away. "Oh you poor dear," she said casting a sleeping charm. The girl slumped over, her fall cushioned by Pomfrey's arm gently pulling her out from under the table.

"I – I'll carry her," Severus said regaining his bearing.

"Fine," Pomfrey said shortly. "Out of the way all of you. There's nothing to see. This isn't the carnival, you know."

They hurried to the hospital wing as the Great Hall erupted into raucous chatter.

A fifth-year Ron Weasley, with a bit of sausage still in his mouth announced that, "Snape's daughter is nutters."

"That's not very nice Ronald," Hermione chastised him. "She's sick that's why she can't take classes. I feel sorry for her."

"Yeah, Snape treats her worse than Longbottom," agreed Harry, "and that's saying something."

* * *

"How long has she been unresponsive?" Dr. Engels asked, opening up her medical bag and placing it on the end table. 

"Five hours," said Madame Pomfrey, glancing over at the Muggle medical tools with an eye of skepticism.

Sera was lying on a hospital bed staring up at the ceiling in a stupor.

"Sera, it's Dr. Engels," she said, lifting the girl's hand into the air a few inches and let go. It fell limply back onto the bed.

Engels unbuttoned and pulled up the left sleeve of the girl's white blouse to check her pulse. Blood pressure was low.

"Sera, I'm going to take your temperature," Elaine said prying the girl's mouth open and sticking the thermometer under her tongue.

Sera's body temperature had always been abnormal. Whereas the normal core body temperature of the human being ranges between 97.6 and 98.8 degrees, the girl was never warmer than 95.5 degrees and dipping below 94.5 degrees was an emergency situation. The thermometer indicated 94.9 degrees.

"Could we get two blankets for her? Her temp's too low," Elaine said to Madame Pomfrey.

"Nurse Matthews," the Mediwitch called, "we need two blankets, please." A young brunette hurried off. Pomfrey wanted to supervise the Muggle doctor.

Dr. Engels snapped her fingers in front of Sera, three times in quick succession, the girl didn't so much as blink.

Clapping also had no effect.

"Was the sleeping charm the only magic that was performed on her today?" she asked.

"Yes, I think so," replied Pomfrey. "Severus," she said to a wizard in black robes standing against the wall, who had been quietly observing the proceedings.

"Yes, only the sleeping charm," he confirmed.

"She woke up an hour later, but like this. She hasn't spoken or moved since," Pomfrey recounted, worry creeping into her voice that she had somehow performed the charm incorrectly. "Her medical records said she suffered from something like this about a month ago and was treated by you."

"Has Sera taken the Strengthening potion this morning?" Engels asked continuing her assessment.

"No, she did not," Professor Snape answered.

"What led up this?" Engels said. "The Headmaster only said she'd had an outburst at breakfast."

"Well, for that you'll have to ask her _father_," the Mediwitch said curtly. Nurse Matthews had returned with the blankets and the two witches set about tucking the girl comfortably underneath them as Dr. Engels spoke with the grim faced Potions Master.

"Sera insolently refused to sit next to me at the High Table," Snape explained coolly. "She has some ludicrous idea that she must sit in the seventh seat from the left. I removed the chair and she sat on the floor with her dog. When it came time to leave, she would not respond to me, I tapped her on the shoulder and she began to scream like a banshee. Madam Pomfrey cast a charm on her and she was brought here."

"So let me see if I have this straight," Elaine said bringing a hand to her forehead. "Sera made it known to you that she wanted to sit in a specific seat. You said no. She insisted on sitting there anyway and you '_removed_' the chair – and just how did you remove the chair?"

"I vanished it," he said simply.

"While she was still sitting on it," Engels said with a note of accusation.

"Yes," he answered without an ounce of guilt.

"So, the laws of gravity being what they are, she fell to the floor," Engels surmised caustically crossing her arms over her chest. "At that point, what did Sera do? Did she – did she start rocking back-and-forth?" the doctor guessed.

"Yes and humming to herself as well," he added.

"Then you told her it was time to leave, but she didn't acknowledge you. You went to tap her on the shoulder, probably startled her, causing her to scream," Elaine said more to herself, sequencing the events in her mind. "Did she scream continually?"

"No, once I let go of her shoulder and stepped away, she stopped."

"But she kept up the rocking motions and the humming?" Elaine asked.

"Yes, she was humming the melody to an irritating nursery song. The _Itsy-Bity-Spider_," he snorted derisively.

"She also had her eyes closed and her hand over her ears," Pomfrey said rejoining the conversation, "and she rocked faster than before."

Engels nodded in comprehension. "Well that would explain how we got here."

The doctor took a step back and contemplated for a moment. She looked from the Mediwitch to the professor gauging their dispositions, with a deep breathe, she delivered her prognosis, "Professor Snape, Madam Pomfrey, I believe Sera is in a state of acute catatonia brought on by the stresses of her condition and psychological trauma. She's had rare incidences of this before, most recently three weeks ago during the trial. At that time, I administered norepinephrine to stimulate her nervous system. The drug is a synthesized hormone used to increase blood pressure and heart rate."

"Like adrenaline," Madame Pomfrey said.

"Yes, exactly," Dr. Engels said agreeing with analogy, "Norepinephrine is used regularly in hospitals. However, Sera experiences side-effects not normally associated with the drug due to her neurological condition."

"What sort of side-effects?" Professor Snape asked.

"Headaches, sensitivity to light and sound, nausea, vomiting, night-sweats, fatigue," Engels listed.

Snape snorted derisively. "The cure is worse than the disease."

"Professor, a state of catatonia is far from benign. The longer Sera stays like this, the less likely it is that she will come out of it. I agree that the drug has undesirable secondary effects, but it will hopefully snap her out of this, if we haven't waited too long already. Will you allow me to treat her with it or not, Professor Snape?"

He paused for a moment in consideration before nodding his head in assent. He and Madam Pomfrey watched as the doctor injected Sera with the clear liquid drug. After a few minutes, Sera stirred, blinking and twitching.

"Sera. It's Dr. Engels," said the doctor sticking a band-aid over the puncture.

"Hello, Dr. Engels," Sera replied softly in a hoarse voice.

"How do you feel? Are you in any pain?"

"I feel fine. No, I am not in any pain. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Engels said with a smile at Sera's practiced politeness. "I think its time you had some food. It's not a good idea to skip breakfast."

* * *

"Professor Snape, may I speak to you alone please?" Dr. Engels asked. 

"You can use my office, dear," Madam Pomfrey offered kindly.

The office had a large picturesque view of the lawn and lake. Anatomical diagrams of the human body hung on the walls. A bookcase held medical texts ranging from _One-Thousand-and-One Magical Children Illnesses _to _Agnst of the Adolescent Witch and Wizard. _Neither adult chose to sit. Engels leaned against the edge of the desk, while Snape stood by the bookcase.

"Professor Snape," Engels said, "Sera isn't adjusting well to this place and it's endangering her health."

"And what would your solution be? That I return her to the tender care of the Keatings?" he replied.

"That is not what I was going to say," Engels replied, keeping her voice level. "This is the second time Sera has gone into a catatonic stupor in the past three weeks. It can't be allowed to happen again. This is the beginning of a pattern that can't be allowed to continue. You see, every time I give Sera the drug, it increases her body's tolerance for it and there's no guarantee that it will work again. She could windup a human vegetable totally incapable of taking care of herself."

"What's to be done?" he asked.

"The first step is to understand what triggers this reaction," Engels said calmly. "Sera has higher levels of dopamine beta hydroxylase – that's a chemical in the brain that transmits nerve impulses. What this means is that she's more prone to agitation. To relieve those anxieties, people in her condition unconsciously engage in repetitious behaviors such as the rocking or humming, you saw today. Those movements, rocking back and forth, or in others, pacing a room, releases endorphins in the brain. These are chemicals the body produces in response to trauma or stress. They act like opiates to reduce sensations of pain. It's theorized that some children with Asperger's Syndrome overload their sensory systems through behaviors we call tantrums or meltdowns.

"There's a simple logic to it. In situations that become too overwhelming, the child unconsciously blocks out the ability to perceive sensation. But, this sets up a new problem. It limits the ability to sense things like hunger, tiredness or even whether you're hot or cold."

"Sera has gone a step further. She's withdrawn her entire consciousness. Her body functions, but her mind is elsewhere. She becomes totally unresponsive. Even the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Keating aren't enough to pull her out of it. She's just gone – retreated inside completely inside herself – and it takes a powerful drug to wake her up again. I'm afraid the day is coming when that won't be enough. The only way to prevent that from happening is to make her feel safe in her new environment."

"And how does one go about doing that?" he asked pointedly.

"You're going to have to get to know her, Professor Snape, to empathize with Sera and learn to read her behaviors and gestures as socially inappropriate or bizarre as you find them and then make your decisions accordingly," Engels said. "Honestly, professor, if you had known that not allowing her to sit in the seat she wanted to or tapping her on the shoulder from behind was going to lead to this, would you have done the same thing?"

"No," he acquiesced. "I would have made her eat in her room instead of making a public spectacle of herself."

"I'm going to check on Sera again, before I leave. If you have any questions, you can ask them now or send me an owl," Engels said.

"Yes, you must be in a hurry to report to the Keatings," he said snidely.

Engels sighed wearily. "Muggle law stipulates that I cannot speak to anyone else about Sera's medical condition without your express permission," she informed him blithely.

"Good," he said, clearly pleased with the revelation.

"However, I am equally obliged to report any signs of abuse or neglect that I encounter to the authorities," she added warningly.

* * *

**STupid stories – **Rodolphus and Bella will meet again. 

**LMTran – **I threw in a little of Harry, Hermione, and Ron for you. Draco will be meeting with his new cousin shortly.

**Midnight-Dragon07** – Keatings will be reappearing soon. They refuse to go away.

**Paul W** – You make a good point. I think Bev and Rick, having just lost a baby, weren't really thinking with their heads. I think in custody battles over adoption, I could be wrong so don't shoot me or anything, that the biological rights of the parents usually trump those of the adoptive parents, unless the child's natural parents are proven to be incompetent or unfit to raise a child.

**SailorHecate **– It's going to get worse before it gets better.

**dancer8428 – **Yes, Bellatrix will meet Sera.

**Anglachel** – Thanks for adding my story to your community!

Thanks to all for reading and reviewing. I need a beta reader if anyone is interested.


	32. Chapter 32 Letters from Home

**Chapter 32 – Letters from Home**

**

* * *

**

_**A letter from home is worth ten thousand ounces of gold.**_

– **Chinese proverb.**

**

* * *

**

1 November 1995

Dear Sera,

We have all arrived safely home, although it's not quite home without you.

I thought your new room could use a bit of color, so I sent you this painting. Do you remember it? We worked on it together when you were ten years old. There's a bit of sky in it, since you can't see it from your new bedroom window. Someday, sweetheart, I promise we'll sit by the river again.

I also have some happy news. While we were staying at the Three Broomsticks, we happened to meet your cousin, Nymphadora Tonks. She prefers to be called Tonks. She's an Auror for the British Ministry of Magic and also a Metamorphmagus. She's cheerful, bright, and a little quirky. Her parents, your Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted, joined us for lunch before we left. They'd love to hear from you. You can write them at 7 Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, London.

But please write to us first, honey. Tell us how your health has been, what you have been feeling, how you have been spending your time, how you are getting along with the professor, if people at Hogwarts are treating you well, and let us know if you need anything.

Danny wants me to write to tell you not to eat anything called haggis, which is a traditional Scottish dish made from the heart, lungs, and liver of a sheep boiled in it own stomach. Yes, that does sound a bit disgusting.

Your Aunt Loretta, Grandmother Evie, and Will send their love.

Your father wants me to tell you that you are not allowed to date until you are -------------- your father and I have decided that when you decide you want to start to date, you should talk or write to us first. However, your father would like me to write, under duress, that he would prefer that you not date until you are forty years old, which is simply ridiculous.

Love always,

Mom & Dad

* * *

_3 November 1995_

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_I am glad that you are safely home. This place is not home without you._

_Yes, mother I remember the painting. The professor told me that the windows in the dungeon face the bottom of the lake. I have placed your painting above my dresser. It is pretty and reminds me of home. _

_I am fine. Please, do not worry. _

_Please tell Danny that I will do as he suggests and abstain from consuming haggis._

_Please tell Aunt Loretta, Will and Grandmother Evie that I love and miss them._

_I will try to comply with both your wishes regarding dating._

_Love, your daughter,_

_Seraphina Bianca Keating_

* * *

3 November 1995

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Keating,

I wish to make clear to you that I am the sole legal guardian of Seraphina.

Your correspondence with her may be terminated by me at anytime. All letters **sent to her** will be read by me and all letters **sent by her** will also be read by me.

Furthermore, I find that you overstep your bounds, by communicating with Sera's extended relatives. Sera will be allowed to write and send one letter to the Keating family once a week and she will be permitted to read one letter from the Keating family per week.

On another note, I have contacted my barrister, Mr. Montague and begun proceedings to have Seraphina's surname legally changed to Snape.

These changes may be difficult for you to accept, but as you must have familiarized yourselves with my reputation – you must know that I am not a man to be trifled with. I am not known for acts of charity or compassion. I will not tolerate any interference in my relationship with my daughter.

Regards,

Professor Severus S. Snape

* * *

_5 November 1995_

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_When we first learned of your connection to Sera, we empathized with your position as a man who had only recently discovered that he had a teenaged daughter. We made every effort to reach out to you in the spirit of friendship and cooperation, but you would have none of it. Instead, you have chosen to bring us to this present state of enmity._

_We know what the law says, but there is a higher moral law, which you are guilty of trespassing. If ethical arguments do not sway you, then consider the effects of your actions on Sera. If you monitor her mail, you violate her privacy and she will think that you either do not trust her or the people she writes to._

_If you change her last name, without her consent, it will only be a meaningless piece of paper. Sera will always be a Keating. You will also be confusing Sera at a time in her life – adolescence already fraught with anxieties, when she is already trying to adapt to life at Hogwarts, a world that is totally alien from the one she knew. _

_You place Sera in an inferior position by overseeing her mail. She will censor her own thoughts and feelings. She will be unable to tell us if she needs something out of fear of offending you, recognizing that you have the power to cease all communication between us. Ultimately, Sera will suffer in silence. Is this what you want? _

_We shall abide by your conditions to write to Sera once a week knowing that you are reading our letters to her, because you, like a tyrant, have given us no choice. The life of a parent is one of sacrifice, if my wife and I must humble ourselves to your demands, so that we may keep writing to Sera, than so be it. However, consider that Sera will be forming her own opinion of you. What kind of man will she think you are? Have you even considered her feelings or thoughts? _

_The greatest hindrance, we see in your relationship with Sera will be your own selfishness not our 'interference'. Our daughter knows that we love her unconditionally; we doubt that you can say the same._

_Signed, _

_Beverly and Roderick Keating_

* * *

Seraphina spent most of her time confined to either her bedroom or the parlor reading textbooks with Roscoe. The professor came to see her during breaks between his classes, muttering about incompetent students. He would take the textbook he had assigned her to read like, the_ Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _or _A History of Magic_ and quiz her on the material.

"What incantation do you use to start a fire?"

"Flagro."

"What incantation do you use to put out a fire?"

"Aguamenti."

"What spell would you use switch the position of two congruent objects."

"Interruttore."

"Who invented Floo Powder?"

"Ignatia Wildsmith, born 1227, died 1320."

He was impressed with her eidetic memory, the ability to recall any visual imagery with almost photographic accuracy, but as a Slytherin he valued originality of thought over straight memorization. Ingenuity and not rote memorization was what interested him.

They ate lunch together. She would then return to their quarters to work on her 'maths' as Severus referred to geometry and physics. After dinner, they took a walk _with_ Roscoe not to be mistaken with taking Roscoe for a walk. In the girl's mind, she and the beast were equals in rights and dignity. Severus pointed at various constellations testing Sera's knowledge of the stars, which proved more proficient than his own, which he did not of course, admit to her. She knew not only every star, planet, or moon, he could think to ask her for the name of, but she knew that Jupiter revolved around the sun after 4,332.6 days and that the sun was 332,000 times the size of the earth.

Sera also proved to be an adept student of music, drawing out rich deep melodies from the cello. Severus who had never cared much for music found her playing almost soothing as he marked the essays of one imbecilic student after another.

By Friday, Severus believed he had the situation well in hand. There had been no more outbursts and he was getting used to her American accent, odd head and eye movements, fidgeting, strange turns of phrases, affinity for prime numbers and all her other peculiarities.

On the weekend, Severus decided to go over the practical aspects of the theory they had covered during the week. From the reports he had read about her magical ability, he could not allow her to practice new magic unsupervised, though now he questioned the credibility of those reports. They seemed to have been over-exaggerated by her foster parents.

After breakfast on Saturday morning, he took her to an empty Potions classroom, and asked her to take a seat in the front row.

"Take out your wand," he said, placing a piece of blank parchment on the desk before her.

She removed a thin white oak wand from the pocket of her pinafore. _What other items did she have in those pockets_, he wondered briefly.

"Now, I will demonstrate first," he said, picking up another piece of parchment and holding it with his left hand, he flicked and pointed his wand at it and said, "Flagro." The paper ignited. He held the paper at arms length and pointed his wand at it again saying, "Aguamenti." A jet of water sprang from his wand and put out the fire. "Now you try, but leave the piece of paper on your desk."

Seraphina copied his hand movement and flicked her wrist and pointed at the paper on the desk and said, "Flagro." The entire desk ignited and the hem of her dress caught fire.

Severus put out the fire. Perhaps starting with fire charms had not been the best idea.

"Sera is there any way you can control the, ah – intensity of your spells?" he asked her.

Her head tilted down and to the side.

"No, I do not know how," she said after a moment.

Most children had difficulty making things happen. They pointed their wands mispronouncing spells willing any effect. However, his daughter was special, her spells worked too well. This did not matter for certain types of spells like vanishing or switching objects, but when it came to conjuring substances… There were problems to be sure.

* * *

The phone was ringing insistently as Bev opened the front door.

"Hold on, I'm coming," she said, putting down her portfolio on the kitchen counter, and picking up the phone.

"Hello."

"Please, hold," said a woman's nasal voice on the other end, "connecting you to Mr. Rothschild."

Bev was stunned. _What could he want_, she thought. _He couldn't possibly think…_

"Ahh – Beverly," her father's gruff voice greeted her.

"What do you want?" she asked abruptly.

"I want to see my grandsons," he said matching her no nonsense tone, "as you promised."

"The deal is off. We lost," Beverly replied bitterly.

"You won the trial because of my – influence," Anselm von Rothschild said coolly. "It is not my fault that you lost her again. I gave you what you asked for, now I come to collect what is owed to me."

"No papa, that wasn't the deal. You were supposed to help me keep her. It doesn't matter that you fixed the trial, because we lost her any – _RICK!_"

The phone clattered to the floor. Her husband was standing in the doorway and by the look of anger and disgust on his face, he had heard everything. He turned his back on her and started walking away.

"Rick! Wait! Let me explain," she implored him.

"There's nothing to explain! I understand. I'm not an idiot, Bev. I can connect the dots. You went to your father because you were afraid we'd lose."

He whirled around to face her, his blue eyes ablaze. "Why did you do it Bev? What the hell did you promise him?"

"I – I didn't want to lose her, Rick," she said tears running down her face. "Please, Rick, I did it for us – to keep our family together."

"What did you promise him? What was the deal?" he demanded.

Bev wiped the tears from her eyes and told him. "He – he wants to meet them – the boys."

"WHAT?" Rick backed away from her in revulsion. "You were going to let that sociopath near our sons? Are you insane? That will never happen, Bev. Never," he said slamming the door behind him.

* * *

The Dark Lord sat enthroned tapping one long reptilian finger against the armrest.

"Severus, how is that girl of yours?" he asked. "I heard she had a spat of ill health."

"Yes, my Lord, but she's recovered," Severus answered.

"Good. I should hate to lose both mother and daughter," Voldemort said stroking Nagini's head. "Bella has disappointed me and I do not like to be disappointed."

Nagini slithered to the stone floor.

"Let us hope that Seraphina will not follow in her mother's footsteps," Voldemort said, rising from his seat to pace the dark drawing room slowly. He made his way to the window and parted the heavy green curtains. The moonlight cast him in an unearthly glow making him appear ghastly pale. He breathed deeply through his slit-like nostrils.

"I will be writing to your daughter, Severus," Voldemort said turning to address the man. "Under a pseudonym, of course. I shall be – Professor Walpurgis – Simon Walpurgis. What do you think?"

"She is not eloquent, Master," Severus replied carefully.

"Unnecessary. I am not interested in words. My interest is in numbers," he said. "You will tell her that Professor Simon Walpurgis is your very good friend – a colleague, who as a favor to you, has agreed to take her on as a pupil. And she will accept my generous offer."

"Yes, of course," Severus said. "It is an honor, Master."

"Yes, quite," Voldemort said chuckling to himself.

* * *

**LMTran – **Your foreboding feeling is on the mark about Brian Carr, but what happens to Sera is going to be a bit more serious than that. Some more drama for the Keatings in this chapter and more to come. Yep, Voldie has some definite plans for Sera.

**Jessica – **I'll have to get back to you on Bella. She's busy plotting her revenge. Hope you enjoyed this chapter in the meantime.

Thanks for all the great feedback.


	33. Chapter 33 Letters from Home, Part 2

**Chapter 33 – Letters from Home, Part 2**

* * *

**May 1st 1990****  
**

**Keating Estate, Virginia**

"Happy Birthday, Sera," said a blonde little girl. Her hair was cut short just below her ears. She wore a white summer dress with a yellow ribbon sash around the waist.

She handed her best friend a gift wrapped in shiny blue foil paper her mommy had let her pick out at the store.

"Open it, Sera. Open it!" she insisted excitedly.

"Yes, Tabitha," answered the raven haired girl, diligently undoing the tape so as not to rip the pretty paper.

Tabitha ate her cake and swung her legs in anticipation. It was a nice day to have a party outside. Mr. Keating had brought out an ice-cream cake. The top-half was vanilla and the bottom part was chocolate. It was delicious. She licked her spoon as Sera unfolded the paper.

"Just rip it open, Sera!" Danny cried out, rolling his eyes.

"It's Sera's birthday. Not yours, dummy. She can do whatever she wants to!" Tabitha defended sticking her tongue out.

"This is going to take forever," Will whined, "Mom can we go play now."

Bev sighed. "After you finish your cake."

Boys could be so stupid. Tabitha was lucky her parents hadn't been stupid and given her brothers. Her mom and dad were talking to Sera's mom and dad about grownup stuff like the government and the Middle East and boring stuff as Tabitha waited for her friend.

Sera wasn't like other little girls, her mom had told her. Tabitha thought this was very true. Sera was a lot smarter even if the other kids called her a retard. She could count all the way to a million if she wanted to and already knew the multiplication table and could do long division without a calculator. So what, if she didn't play with dollies or have stupid tea parties, they had better things to do.

Finally, Sera had unwrapped the present.

"Do you like it?" Tabitha asked. "It used to be mine, but I wanted to give it to you 'cause you look just like Snow-White when she was a little girl." Tabitha flipped the pages of the illustrated storybook. "See," she said, pointing at the drawing of little Snow White tugging at the sleeve of the huntsman.

On the side of the picture it said:

_The huntsman dared not disobey the Queen's orders, so he led Snow-White out into the woods and placed an arrow in his bow to pierce her innocent heart. She began to weep saying, "Oh, dear huntsman, let me live. I will run into the wild woods and never come back."_

_The child's beauty touched his heart with pity, and he said, "Run away, you poor child."_

"_The wild beasts will soon have devoured you," thought he, and yet it seemed as if a stone had had fallen from his heart, for he would not have to kill her._

"I like it. Thank you, Tabitha," Sera said.

"Your welcome," Tabitha said grinning widely. "Tomorrow let's go to the castle and read it."

* * *

**November 15th 1995**

**Keating Residence, NYC**

Danny came home to find his mother sobbing on the floor of the front hall.

"Mom, what happened?"

"It's all my fault," she said crying. "I've ruined everything, Danny. I've hurt your father. And you. And Will. Oh, Goddess."

Danny helped his mother to her feet and set her down on the living room sofa. He brought her a glass of water. She had to hold the glass with both hands, she was trembling so much.

"I've done a terrible thing, Danny," she told him, her hazel eyes full of despair. "I wanted to keep our family together, so I went to my father."

Danny nodded.

"I asked him for help. I should've known better, but I thought it was the only way. You have to believe me," she said clutching at his hand.

"Yeah, of course, mom."

"He – he promised to help us keep Sera, if I – if I let him meet you and your brother. I'm so sorry Danny," she cried.

"It's – it's alright mom," he said trying to reassure her.

"All these years, I've kept you and Will away from him, because he's a dangerous man. I told myself that you'd only have to meet him once and that would be it. And I would be there to make sure nothing happened to you. But now, even though we lost Sera anyway, he still wants to meet you. He called here," she said, "And your father heard. He's so angry with me. And he has every right to be."

"Its okay mom," Danny said trying to comfort her. "He'll come around."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Danny," she apologized again, "I love you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah. I know," he replied. "I know."

* * *

It was the beginning of Sera's third week at Hogwarts. They had established a routine and Severus felt that things were running much more smoothly. There had been no more public outbursts. He had always been a keen observer of human behavior and when Sera appeared to be in distress she was sent off to their quarters. 

An owl came to the High Table and left a letter for Seraphina.

Professor Snape stuck out his hand from behind his newspaper and Sera handed him the red envelope.

He recognized it immediately as a Howler.

It flew out from between his fingertips and opened itself up, loudly declaring,_ "DAUGHTER OF DEATH EATERS LEAVE HOGWARTS OR DIE!"_

Then it chewed itself to pieces. All heads turned towards the scene at the High Table.

"Great Merlin!" gasped McGonagall.

"Is she alright?" asked Madam Pomfrey worriedly.

There was no need for concern on Sera's part. She continued eating her French toast, unfazed, while the Potions Master's face was a study in cold fury.

Professor Dumbledore stood up and addressed the students, "Whoever is responsible for this Howler is not welcome at Hogwarts. He or she will be expelled. If anyone knows the guilty party, I would advise you to come forward, or else you will share in the culprit's guilt."

The headmaster sat down again and peered over at Seraphina who was nearly finished with her breakfast. She sipped from her glass of pumpkin juice and glanced at her watch.

"Are you alright, my dear?" asked Madame Pomfrey.

"I am fine. How are you?" the girl replied politely.

"Oh, I'm well," the Mediwitch said with a sigh, perhaps it was better that Sera didn't fully comprehend what had just happened.

Severus studied Sera's reaction. She was the picture of normalcy, not even fidgeting or kicking her chair. He gathered the remains of the Howler together in a napkin. He would find the perpetrator and make them wish they had bloody well never been born.

"She didn't even flinch," Ron observed, serving himself more bacon. "It's like she's not human or something."

"People with her condition have trouble expressing emotion, Ron. Just because she's not crying doesn't mean she's not hurting inside," Hermione empathized remembering how difficult it was not to fit in.

Neville half listened to their conversation as he glanced over at Dean Thomas who had his back turned to him. Susan Bones was chatting merrily with some other Hufflepuff girls. Brian Carr had his face hidden behind a book. There was no doubt in Neville's mind who the culprits were, but he was bound by his wizard's promise.

He pushed his plate away, no longer hungry.

* * *

_22 November 1995_

_Dear Miss Snape,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_Your father has told me much about you and I'm pleased to accept you as a student if you can answer the following problem to my satisfaction._

_Give me the complete set of solutions for integer triangles in which the three side lengths and area can be multiplied by their least common multiple to make them all integers._

_Regards,_

_Professor S. Walpurgis_

* * *

"Seraphina, you must rewrite this letter," Severus said handing it back to her. 

Her reply to the Dark Lord was unacceptable, as it read:

_23 November 1995_

_Dear Professor Walpurgis,_

_My name is not Miss Snape. It is Seraphina Keating. _

_In answer to your letter:_

_a n (m2 + k2)_

_b n (m + k)_

_c (m+n) (m n - k2)_

_s m n (m+n)_

_Therefore, k m n (m+n) (m n - k2). _

_Sincerely,_

_Seraphina Bianca Keating_

"Your surname has been changed to Snape," Severus informed her, he was still holding the letter to his dismay, she would not take the letter from his hand and remained seated staring at the desk in front of her instead.

"My last name is Keating," she said still not looking up.

He slammed the letter down on the desk in front of her. "You will rewrite this letter, Seraphina. It will say: _Dear Professor Walpurgis, Thank you for considering me as potential pupil. I believe the answer to the problem is_ – then recopy your solution set and sign the letter as Seraphina Snape. Is that understood?"

Only the sound of her kicking the leg of her chair answered him.

She was going to have some sort of fit, he thought. He was trying to save them both from the wrath of the Dark Lord and she was going to throw a childish temper tantrum.

"Correct me if I'm wrong Seraphina, your foster parents instructed you to obey me?" he asked her coldly, his arms folded across his chest as he stood towering over her.

"Yes, professor," she said continuing to kick at her chair leg rhythmically.

"Then you shouldn't you do as I say?"

"Mother and father say my last name is Keating."

"A paradox then, two contradictory statements, you have been instructed to obey. It's obvious you would prefer to be a Keating, but you are a Snape by blood and you are in my custody. I currently provide you with all the necessities of life, do I not? And this is your gratitude to me," he said bitterly to her. "Your name has been legally changed. Is my word not good enough for you? Do you wish to see documentation?"

"Yes," she said.

"Fine," he said striding to the parlor desk and unlocking a drawer with a small brass key. He removed a sheaf of papers and returned to the small kitchen table where she was seated. "This is your new birth certificate, my solicitor had drawn up," he said placing the document in front of her. "This is the request for your surname to be changed," he placed another piece of parchment in front of her. "And this is the acceptance of that request," putting another document on top of the previous one. "And you also now hold dual citizenship.

"Your sainted foster parents taught you to obey the law, did they not?"

"Yes," she answered, kicking the leg of the table.

"This is the law. Your surname is Snape. You are no longer a Keating," he said bluntly. "Rewrite your letter to Professor Walpurgis and give it to me."

Her rewritten reply letter read:

_23 November 1995_

_Dear Professor Walpurgis,_

_I prefer to be called Sera._

_In answer to your letter:_

_a n (m2 + k2)_

_b n (m + k)_

_c (m+n) (m n - k2)_

_s m n (m+n)_

_Therefore, k m n (m+n) (m n - k2). _

_Sincerely,_

_Seraphina B. Keating – Snape _

Severus charmed _Keating_ and the dash out of the letter before sealing it in an envelope. He was expected to deliver it the Dark Lord the next time he was summoned.

"Stubborn girl," he murmured.

The burning of the Dark Mark awoke him from his slumber two nights later. Before leaving he checked on his daughter as she was sleeping. Opening the door, Severus roused the sleeping wolf, who went back to sleep curled up on shag upon recognizing him.

There were times when Severus had been close to death and felt there would be nothing left of him once he was gone. But here in this bed, in the dungeons of Hogwarts, lay his daughter.

"If I should die," he thought, "it will not be the end of me."

* * *

The Malfoy family owl swooped down with its weekly delivery of sweets. 

Draco opened the attached note.

_25 November 1995_

_Dear Draco,_

_Congratulations on your recent victory against Hufflepuff. I regret I could not witness the event in person, but I have been occupied with important business._

_Speaking of which, it would behoove you to seek an audience with your cousin, Seraphina. Her star is in ascendance and it would be to our advantage if you would align yourself with her._

_I expect to hear from you on this matter in the coming week._

_--- Father._

* * *

_26 November 1995_

_Dear Sera,_

_I hope you're happy. It's fucking amazing, you're a thousand miles away and you're still able to ruin our lives just like you always do._

_I wish mom and dad had never adopted you. They're probably going to get a divorce and it's all your faulty. All these years, with you being sick and weird, Merlin knows why they kept you at all. We always had to worry about you – about how you would feel or if you'd freak out on us._

_I'm glad we're not really related. I hope you never come back again. _

_--- Danny_

Severus tucked the letter into his robes. He'd burn it in the fireplace later. Sera continued to eat her breakfast and didn't ask for the letter back. She knew better. She missed her family though, had even asked if she might visit them on Thanksgiving, which he had of course, denied. Bloody American holidays, they had far too many of them.

It brought to mind Draco's request to visit with his cousin. Severus suspected it had been at his parents' provocation. At his last summons to the Dark Lord, Severus had been praised for his daughter's work in support of their cause. The Dark Lord had alluded to the fact that she had solved a technical problem in bypassing the wards of the Department of Mysteries.

At the same time Bellatrix had reemerged from hiding to rejoin the Death Eaters after leaving her husband Rodolphus, which had disappointed the Dark Lord initially. He had hoped the Lestranges would reconcile. Bellatrix earned her forgiveness by providing them with vital information regarding the prophecy. Apparently, no one except the Dark Lord himself or Potter could safely take the glass sphere from its resting place, which meant they would have to find a way to lure the Boy Wonder into the department.

Bella had earned a bit of a reward with that tidbit. She would be allowed to correspond via Severus just as the Dark Lord did. The Potions Master was chagrined at having become the messenger owl for a thirteen year old girl.

Later on that day, after she came to his office upon returning from practicing the piano in Ravenclaw tower, he talked with her regarding the matter.

"Seraphina, I have a letter from your mother. Not Mrs. Keating, but Bellatrix. The woman, is as you know a deranged criminal. Do not ask me how I came by this letter. Do not tell anyone that you are corresponding with her unless you would like to continue the fine family tradition of spending a good portion of your youth in Azkaban. She is a dangerous and insane woman. Do you understand?"

"Yes, professor."

"Look at me when I am speaking to you," he said demandingly.

She raised her head and made eye contact. Severus had realized early on that her condition made her a natural Occulumens, but he found that his own intimidating persona worked well enough without need for Legilimens.

"You will keep your letter short and to the point. Do not be fooled by her sentiments. Whatever she says, I am you father, as I have already proven. Bellatrix on the other hand has all the motherliness of viper. There are animals that eat their young you know. Give me your letter before sealing it," he ended his statement by handing her the letter with the broken serpent-crested seal of the Black family. Merlin, knew how Bellatrix had reobtained that token.

"Yes, professor," Sera said simply taking the letter from him and tucking it into the pocket of her gray jumper dress.

* * *

_25 November 1995_

_Dearest daughter,_

_I am your mother, Bellatrix Antiope Black. You are my daughter, Seraphina. You grew and lived in me. I gave up thirteen years of my life by surrendering myself to the Aurors for your sake, so that you could be borne safely. And they cruelly took you from me, robbed you from my womb and told me you had died. I grieved for you everyday in Azkaban. The Healer telling me that you had died was the memory I was forced to relive every time the Dementors came near me._

_What kept me alive and sane was the thought that I would have my revenge against them. And believe me I will, but now you are my new reason for living. I've been able to see you in person – at a distance of course. But the day is coming when shall be able to meet face to face. Till then write to me. Snape will serve as our go-between till a better more reliable means is found. _

_I'm aware that he is monitoring your letters. It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. He is not your father. You have no father as far as I am concerned, you have only me. You are mine alone, not his. I am all the family you ever need. Trust no one else. Don't allow him to corrupt you against me. He's only using you to get what he wants. You're a smart girl. See him for what he is._

_I know you are ill, but you are a Black. In your veins runs the blood of the most noble and ancient mages. We are descendants of Morgana herself, older than even Salazar Slytherin. You will overcome this disease. I will help you do it._

_Your mother, Bellatrix Black_

* * *

Seraphina's reply letter: 

_Dear Ms. Black,_

_You were convicted and sentenced to life in Azkaban for hurting innocent people. You should return to prison. _

_I do not want to write to you, but have been instructed to reply by Professor Snape. I do not wish to meet with you. I do not want your help._

_Sincerely,_

_Seraphina B. Keating-Snape_

"Very good, Seraphina," he said praising the harshness of her letter. It was direct and brutally honest. He could just see Bellatrix choking on every word, though she'd most likely accuse him of poisoning the girl against her.

* * *

"Hello, Seraphina," Draco greeted his cousin, who was seated on a dusty forest green couch in front of the fireplace. 

"Hello, Draco," she said looking up but not making eye contact at all. Her vision appeared directed at something to the far left of his head.

"Would you like some tea, Draco?" Professor Snape offered.

"Yes, thank you sir," he said sitting down on the couch next to his cousin.

He had never been in the professor's private quarters before. There were no heads of any former students mounted on his wall. It was almost disappointing in its ordinariness. A desk topped with stacks of parchments, books, inkwells and quills. Two overstocked bookshelves stood next to it. The professor poured hot water from a kettle into a teapot in the corner kitchenette.

His cousin stared at the small fire crackling in front of them. She had the tall thin phsyique of the family and was wearing a dark navy blue pinafore dress over a while blouse. It was her self-ascribed uniform. Draco had heard a few jokes about the matter. It was theorized that Snape picked out the girl's clothes having burned her entire wardrobe because it had been too Muggle-like.

"I brought my chess set," Draco said placing it down on the coffee table. "My father said you liked to play."

Professor Snape returned with a tray of tea and biscuits.

"Sera would like to play chess with your cousin?" he asked as she scooped sugar into her tea.

"Yes, I would like to play chess with my cousin," she answered stirring her cup.

The professor watched with unconcealed mirth in his obsidian eyes as Draco was soundly beaten in less than ten moves. His own chess pieces were in an uproar.

"Are you blind, Draco? Didn't you see the black knight coming after me?" cried the white queen putting her crown back on her royal head.

"Been hit with a bludger to the head lately?" snarled the white king. "You should be practicing with us instead of flying around on a broomstick. Exercising your mind should be your priority."

"Get off it," Draco told them.

"You're a Malfoy!" the white king retorted. "If your grandfather Abraxas were alive, he'd show you a move –

"Shut it," Draco ordered, "Pull yourselves together and get back in the box."

Meanwhile the victorious black pieces were congratulating his cousin.

"Good show!" praised the black queen who had been instrumental in dealing his king a death blow.

"Excellent tactics. You must be a Slytherin," said the black knight.

"No, I am not a Slytherin," Sera corrected mechanically.

"What house are you then? Ravenclaw?" the knight guessed.

"Oy! Chatterboxes, it's time we were going," Draco snapped at them.

The black king gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like, "Sore loser," before jumping into the chessbox.

* * *

**SailorHecate – **Yeah, a lot of people hate Snape right now.

**Jessica – **Yep, there's definitely conflict coming from Bev's dad. Bella disgraced Voldemort because she appeared to have deserted him, that was when she was setting herself up at the cottage and plotting her revenge. She rejoined the DeathEaters and is on Voldie's good side again so to speak. Sorry, I wrote it so unclearly. I tried to clarify it in this chapter. Thanks for pointing that out. Sera's not going to meet Voldie for a while – so you're way ahead. More of the "Anti-Sera" group making an appearance next chapter.

**LMTran – **Your comment about the Dept. of Mysteries made me angle part of Voldie's interest in Sera's abilities that way. There's another side to the projects he's having her work on, which is what I had in mind originally. Thanks for the idea, it connected well with Bella's return. Brian Carr and gang will be carrying out more dastardly deeds next chapter.

**ShyOrangette** – Yeah, your back! Things will look bleak for a while, I will grant you. Thanks for putting Brian Carr on your non-existent anger list. He deserves it.


	34. Chapter 34 Fairytales, Part 1

**Chapter 34 – Fairytales, Part 1**

**May 2nd 1990**

**Keating Estate, Virginia**

_Little Snow White looked out of the window and called out, "Good-day my good woman, what have you to sell?" _

_"Good things, pretty things," she answered, "stay-laces of all colors," and she pulled out one which was woven of bright-colored silk. _

_"I may let the worthy old woman in," thought Snow White, and she unbolted the door and bought the pretty laces. _

_"Child," said the old woman, "what a fright you look, come, I will lace you properly for once." _

_Snow White had no suspicion, but stood before her, and let herself be laced with the new laces. But the old woman laced so quickly and so tightly that Snow White lost her breath and fell down as if dead. _

_"You were the most beautiful," said the queen to herself, and ran away. _

_Not long afterwards, in the evening, the seven dwarfs came home, but how shocked they were when they saw their dear little Snow White lying on the ground, and that she neither stirred nor moved, and seemed to be dead. They lifted her up, and, as they saw that she was laced too tightly, they cut the laces, then she began to breathe a little, and after a while came to life again. _

_When the dwarfs heard what had happened they said, "The old pedlar-woman was no one else than the wicked queen, take care and let no one come in when we are not with you." _

"You know, Sera," said Tabitha, after she and her friend had finished reading the page, "I think Snow-White's sorta stupid for not listening to the seven dwarfs. They kept tellin' and tellin' her not to take things from weird old ladies, but she keeps doing it anyway."

"Yes, Tabitha," Sera agreed.

"What time is it, Sera?" the blonde girl asked stretching her arms, careful not to bump into the walls of their castle. As much as she loved their special place, she did not want to get a splinter.

"It is 5:45."

"Time to go back, then," Tabitha said with a yawn.

She and Sera made their way towards the dry creek bed. Tabitha went first grasping onto the rope someone had tied a long time ago to the branch of crab apple tree and swung to the other side of the gully. They could've walked across, but it was more fun this way. Besides leaving or entering the kingdom of Lycia should be something special. Sera tucked the storybook under her arm and grasped onto the rope with both hands and swung across landing trippingly next to Tabitha. The book fell open onto the dry grass.

* * *

_27 November 1995_

_Dear Seraphina,_

_Things are fine at home. We passed a sad Thanksgiving without you, we are grateful for the love we have in one another, despite everything._

_Will has once again made Dean's List and to top it off has been named to the Hartford Law Review, where he will review laws, I suppose. Danny is busy socializing. I secretly suspect he has a girlfriend, who I hope he'll bring around on Winter Break to meet your father and me. Your father is busy as ever at the office, still working the Goblin Bank of New York case. It really is absurd of those mages to refuse to pay their finance fees. _

_I've had my hands full with the John William Waterhouse exhibit. It's been incredibly well received by the public. Enclosed are a few postcards from the collection and the exclusive catalogue. If the professor would be so kind as to allow you home for the holidays, you could see the paintings for yourself. _

_Waterhouse's most famous painting, _The Lady of Shalott _was inspired by the Tennyson poem. You'll remember that your Aunt Loretta put the poem to song and recorded it a few years ago. It should be in your vinyl collection. I think Waterhouse captures the tragedy of Elaine of Astolat exquisitely – her desperation and longing to be a part of the world. Art speaks of the human condition words fail to articulate._

_We're glad to hear that you are getting along with the professor and that your studies in magic are progressing. Please be careful and remember to concentrate. The Goddess does not give anyone more magic than they are able to control. Practice and set the pace for yourself. This goes for your other studies as well. What's important is that you learn and enjoy the extra projects you are working on. _

_Love always,_

_Mom_

* * *

"You poisoned her against me," Bellatrix seethed after reading Sera's short reply to her letter.

She and the Potions Master of Hogwarts stood in some unknown wood after a meeting of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle.

"I did no such thing. She wrote it herself," he replied with a sly smile, "though I pride myself that the girl is such a good judge of character."

"She wouldn't have written you at all if I hadn't made her," he pointed out.

"It's not fair," Bellatrix said scornfully, "She must know that you are a Death Eater too."

"A former Death Eater," he corrected. "There are some benefits to being a double-spy. I must return to Hogwarts."

Bellatrix wanted to kill him right there and then, but she would be patient. Revenge was a dish best served cold after all.

* * *

**November 30th 1995**

"What piece of music do you have with you today?" Professor Flitwick asked as they headed out from the Great Hall to the music room in Ravenclaw Tower.

"The Goldberg Variations of Johann Sebastian Bach," Sera said, holding the music sheets in a folder under one arm and onto Roscoe's leash with the other.

"One of the great composers, I think," Flitwick commented as they began ascending a staircase.

An Asian girl came up behind them, "Professor Flitwick," she exclaimed, "you have to come quickly, to the library. There's a fight!"

"Oh dear! Sera, you can go ahead to the music room on your own. I'll be up shortly," he said quickly before following the Ravenclaw to the library to sort out the brawl.

"Yes, Professor Flitwick," she said, but he had already bustled away.

It was unusual for Sera and Roscoe to walk around Hogwarts alone without being accompanied by a member of the staff, usually it was Professor Snape, since she was spent most of her time in their private quarters. Except for every Saturday at 10:35am, when she practiced the piano in the music room of Ravenclaw Tower while Professor Flitwick marked papers at a nearby desk.

Sera held onto Roscoe's leash tightly as they walked through a corridor past two gawking students.

"Death Eater's daughter," a straw-haired Gryffindor boy murmured.

"Bastard bitch," said a boy of the same House, standing next to the other, with mousy brown hair.

The blonde taller boy spat at her. His spittle landed on the side of her face. Roscoe growled and bared his teeth at the boy, who backed away and took out his wand.

"No, Roscoe," Sera said, immediately pulling at the leash, her folder fell from the other hand scattering the music sheets onto the hallway carpet.

"Keep your dog away from us, bitch, or we'll turn him into a toad," said the blonde Gryffindor. Both boys had drawn their wands.

"You'll do no such thing, scalawags! En garde!" shouted a knight jumping into a farmland landscape painting behind Sera.

"Let's go, Geoff," said the round-faced boy urgently, tugging at the taller boy's arm.

The girl continued to keep the dog at bay and wiped the spittle from her cheek with the back of her sleeve.

"No, Ritchie," Geoff said defiantly. "Let's see if you can duel as well as your mother," he said advancing on Sera. "Take out your wand, bitch."

"Leave the innocent maid alone, you hooligan! You rapscallion!" the knight shouted.

"Oh, shut it, Sir Cadogan," said Jack anxiously, "my friend's got a hangover from too much butterbeer is all. Let's go, Geoff. Cadogan's got a big mouth."

"Fine," the other boy said finally relenting. He stepped on the music sheets as he left with his friend.

"Run you cowardly knaves!" Sir Cadogan shouted as they left.

"Stay," Sera instructed Roscoe as she put down his leash and began to collect the papers.

"No, need to thank me, fair maid," the knight said airily, "I am only doing my duty. It is appalling what uncouth young lads are being admitted to the school. I shall have to speak with the Headmaster. Yes, I've spoken with Professor Dumbledore on occasion. He's sought me out for special missions, you know."

Sera tidied up her papers into the beige manila folder and smoothed out her gray dress. She picked up Roscoe's red leash and started to walk away.

"Wait," Sir Cadogan entreated her. "I shall escort you to your destination. Where is it you are going?"

"Ravenclaw Tower," Sera said.

The knight raced ahead jumping into one painting after another. "I shall accompany you," he said, trying to keep up with the girl and her white dog.

Finally, they all reached their destination without interruption. The sight of the knight leaping about diverted attention away from Sera. "There you are fair maid," Sir Cadogan said graciously.

"Thank you, Sir Cadogan," Sera said opening the door and closing it behind her and Roscoe.

The knight was miffed that she hadn't curtseyed or blown him a kiss, but the work of a chivalrous soldier was a thankless one.

Sera saw her weekly piano practices as a brief respite in her captivity. Here she lost herself in the piano sonatas of Beethoven, concertos of Mozart and today it would be variations in Bach.

It was a change in scenery from the dreary dungeons. The winter sun shone through large paned windows. Music stands were cluttered around the main stage. One with a conductor's baton stood in front of the rest with standing steps behind it for Professor Flitwick. The piano was set apart from the motley of cased woodwinds and stringed instruments. It was used mostly to accompany the choir singers or to instruct in the fundamentals of music.

Today was unusual in that Professor Flitwick, who usually walked up to the tower with her and Roscoe, and marked papers as she practiced, had been called away by a Ravenclaw student just as they were heading up the stairs. Professor Flitwick loved music and always had a kind word to say to Sera about her playing. As Sera and Roscoe had walked up to the tower alone, a few of the students she had passed said things to her like "Snape's girl," or "Bellatrix's brat," or "bastard bitch." It was unusual for Sera and Roscoe to be on their own. She was usually escorted by Professor Snape or some other faculty member, after the Howler had been sent to her.

Sera loved music not only for the technical precision it required in execution and timing, but also for the drama of sound. There was the inherent rhythm of the piece, the crescendos that slowly built up, climaxed and cascaded back into the main theme. Every piece had its own personality; some were naturally soothing like lullabies, while others were manic and frenzied.

And music was wonderfully numbered. It was divided into measures for which the length is determined by a time signature, which resembled a fraction. The numerator told her how many beats were in each measure while the denominator told her what kind of note received one beat. There were whole notes, half notes, quarter notes and eighth notes.

There were numbers everywhere in music even in the instrument itself. The piano had 88 keys in a repeating pattern of 12 keys. Each repetition had 7 white keys and 5 black keys. A move from one key to the next key up was called a half step and a chromatic scale was made up of 13 half steps.

Numbers quantified; they made a chaotic world understandable to her.

As Seraphina sat down to play at the baby grand piano, Roscoe hurried over to the tower window overlooking the Quidditch Pitch. He liked to watch the players fly about on their brooms. Light snow had begun to fall as she began to play. First slow clear crisp notes with long pauses in between followed by a cacophony of notes in succession at a rapid tempo and then a slower pace and a different variation of the main theme.

She was so immersed in the composition that she never noticed when someone slipped into the room.

* * *

"Professor Snape, please come to the Hospital Wing," came Madame Pomfrey's voice over the loudspeaker.

Severus put down his marking quill with a muttered curse hoping none of his Slytherins were injured, though more likely than not they had done the injuring. As he entered the hospital ward, he first saw the white wolf lying on a bed, completely immobilized and then his daughter, covered in blood.

A kind of fear he had never known before gripped at his heart and his eyes went wide with alarm.

"Merlin! What's happened?" he demanded taking in the sight with horror.

"Seraphina will be fine. Madame Pomfrey is treating her wounds," said Professor Dumbledore calmingly and deftly blocking his view.

"Wounds?" Severus repeated.

"It would seem," Dumbledore said sadly, "that she was attacked."

"How?"

"The attacker – cut her arms," the old wizard answered.

"It's my fault," squeaked Professor Flitwick from behind. "I was called away to the library. I should've told her to wait for me, but I thought – I didn't know."

"You're not to blame, Filius," Dumbledore consoled, "I think the attacker was waiting or created the opportunity to get Miss Snape alone."

_Cut her arms. _The words were simple and monosyllabic but Severus, an intelligent wizard by all accounts, had difficulty making sense of them. Slowly, he comprehended their meaning. Someone, some bastard, had cut his daughter, had cut into her flesh, and shed her blood.

Severus moved past the distracted headmaster and watched in livid silence as Madame Pomfrey treated Sera's wounds. He could see that words had been sliced onto each arm. One said "DEATH," the other "EATER." He paled.

"It's not your fault, Filius," Severus said stonily. "It's mine. My daughter is paying for my mistakes."

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Author's Notes: 

It's 4:14am. I am possibly delirious. And this chapter may be incoherent and ungrammatical. Regardless, I would love some reviews. The next chapter is going to be a killer cliff-hanger.


	35. Chapter 35, Fairytales, Part 2

**Chapter 35 – Fairytales, Part 2 **

"_**It is a wise father that knows his own child."**_

_- William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Act 2, Scene 2_

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**May 2nd 1990**

Keating Estate, Virginia

Seraphina set down the dinner plates at the center of each blue-and-white checkered placemat. The dinnerware was decorated with a cheerful swirling design of cream, blue, tan and brown. She folded the beige paper napkins with the seashell design into triangles and put them on the left side beside the dishes. The salad and dinner forks went on top of the napkin. On the right side of the plate went the knife and spoon.

"Did you have fun with Tabitha, today, princess?" Rick asked as he removed the lasagna from the oven.

"Yes, father. I had fun with Tabitha, today," Sera answered, finishing up setting the table.

Rick thanked the Goddess for Tabitha. She and Sera had met last summer, when Tabitha's family, the Thompsons had moved into the neighborhood. The precocious seven-year-old girls had become fast friends. Rick and Bev were thrilled that Sera had someone to play with, since the boys were so reluctant to include her in their games.

The girls had even built a secret clubhouse in the woods. Kevin Thompson's suspicion's had been alerted when Tabitha had borrowed his hammer and a paper cupful of nails for 'arts and crafts'. The woods bordered the Keating Estate and were protected with the same property wards against intruders. The overprotective parents didn't want to pry into the friendship of the two girls, so the Keatings and Thompsons gathered reconnaissance together and discovered the exact location of the girls' ramshackle clubhouse in the woods.

Together Rick, Bev, Kevin and Natalie checked the structural integrity of the clubhouse their daughters had made with bits of driftwood, boards and lumber. They placed a few charms on the place to keep it from collapsing in a strong wind. It wasn't as sophisticated as the tree-house the boys had built. It was a kind of hut on the ground and only had three walls. Then again, the boys were a few years older. Rick and Kevin thought it might be better to build the girls a fancier place with doors and a window, but Bev and Natalie supported the girls' initiative. The girls had built the place on their own and would not appreciate the intrusion of their parents into their secret pretend world.

Similarly to their daughters, the two married couples became fast friends with each another. Kevin wrote fantasy novels and his idealistic politics provided good fodder for debates over the barbeque grill. Natalie photographed for the _Wizarding Times_, a newsmagazine, and was often out on assignment sometimes taking the entire family with her. However, like the Keatings, they all came to Virginia for the holidays. You couldn't celebrate the sabbats properly out in the open in the city. Rick couldn't imagine bonfires in Central Park.

It was a blessing that Sera's birthday was on Beltane, which had ensured Tabitha's presence at her party yesterday. The Keatings would spend the rest of the holiday weekend in the country before returning back to the city. The Thompsons would be embarking on a tour of Eastern Europe in another week with Natalie documenting the results of the fall of Communism.

"What did you do today?" Rick asked Sera, as he grated a wedge of parmesan over the pasta.

"We read a storybook, _Snow-White and the Seven Dwarfs,_" Sera replied, refilling the water pitcher at the sink beside him.

"I named you after Snow-White, you know," Aunt Loretta said from behind them coming into the kitchen, "Bianca is the Italian word for white or fair. _Bianca-Nieve_ for Snow-White. When I held you in my arms," she said hugging Sera, "I thought you sounded like the description 'a child, white as snow, rosy as blood, and whose hair was as black as ebony,'" she quoted kissing the girl on the top of her head. "I wanted you to live happily ever after."

"I am happy," Sera said looking out the kitchen window as rain began to hit against the glass pane behind the yellow and white curtains.

"You don't want a handsome prince to come and whisk you away to his castle?" Bev teased as she sauntered into the kitchen.

"Hey," Rick interjected jealously. "My little girl doesn't need a prince. She's got a handsome father and a very lovely mother." He said kissing his wife over the dinner table.

"Ugh," said Will, pulling a face of disgust from the doorway, "Do you have to do that all the time?" he whined.

"Yeah," piped in Danny, "How are we supposed to eat?"

"Everyone's a critic," Bev said, withdrawing from Rick and turning to look at her boys, who had come home from a game of Quidditch still wearing their hand, arm, elbow and knee guards over t-shirts and jeans. "Wash up, boys," she instructed "but first put your brooms away. A storm's coming and you don't want them to get ruined, do you?"

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**November 30th 1995**

Remus rapt on the oak laboratory door of the Potions Master, "Severus," he called out.

"Come in," answered a gruff voice.

Remus turned the knob and opened the door to see the Potions Master with his back towards him stirring a cauldron of something white and gooey. It smelled like beeswax and chamomile. Snape was making a healing salve.

"There," the Potions Master gestured in front of him to the far left at a blacktop table where a goblet stood smoking faintly next to a cauldron full of the same concoction.

"Thank you, Severus," said Remus walking past the man and taking up the cup of Wolfsbane with a grimace. He took a gulp of the foul tasting liquid. "I'm sorry to hear about your daughter, how is she doing?"

"Unconscious," Severus answered, adding a teaspoon of a dust-like substance to the mixture.

By its acrid scent Remus guessed he had just added powdered dittany root. He might not be a Potions Master, but he had received an Outstanding on his Potions O.W.L. and an E on the N.E.W.T., thank you very much.

Snape was making a Cretian dittany salve for the girl's wounds, Remus surmised. Poppy, no doubt had healing cures by the tubful, but Severus was the sort of person who would go mad without something to keep his hands busy. He also wasn't the sort to sit by a sick person's bedside and hold their hand. That was something Remus's father, had done. Remus doubted he could convince Severus that his daughter, though unconscious, would probably appreciate his presence more than the salve. He found out from a distraught Professor Flitwick that Severus had appointed the Slytherin prefects to take turns standing guard over the sleeping girl.

Sir Cadogan had come forward naming two Gryffindors, Misters Geoffrey Hooper and Jack Sloper, however, they were not the attackers. Severus had questioned them with the headmaster present. Under two skilled Legilimens, the boys confessed to their crimes of bullying and name calling and one of them to cheating on an Arithmancy test. Hooper and Sloper had their Hogsmeade privileges revoked, their parents had been written to, and they had been given detention with Argus for the rest of term on Saturday mornings.

"How are you, Severus?" Remus ventured, taking another swig of Wolfsbane and shuddering at the stomach turning taste.

"I am obviously busy at the moment," Snape answered lowering the heat on the cauldron.

"You always are," Remus said breezily. "You have classes to teach, potions to brew, meetings to attend, people to spy on, student to terrorize, and a child to bring up. Busy man you are."

"Make your point Remus," Severus sighed, "since you intend to anyway, and leave me in peace."

"What happened to Seraphina isn't your fault," Remus said draining the rest of the potion and placed the empty goblet in the sink.

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Draco turned to page 254 of _A History of Magic_ to read more about Almeric Sawbridge, who he already knew from the Chocolate Frog card, was a famous troll conqueror. The illustration in the text was the same one used on the card of a hulking wizard with a confidant smile. The wizard swished his gleaming sword back-and-forth in the air.

"Thinks he's King Arthur, don't he?" Draco snickered. "Where was I?" he said aloud, narrowing his gray eyes, he scanned the text for the place he had left off. "_'In 1652, Sawbridge defeated the troll Glub. who had been terrorizing crossers of the Wye River, demanding a toll payment of five kittens to cross the bridge.'_ Monster," Draco commented and then yawned loudly. "Sorry," he yawned again, "It is four in the morning."

He put down the heavy tome; he had been reading aloud to keep awake, on the nearby table and got up to stretch. Professor Snape would have his hide if he caught him asleep at his post and the last thing Draco wanted was to anger his Head of House, especially with the mood he was in. The Head of Slytherin's cold fury was palatable. It was chilling just being in his presence. Whoever had done this to Snape's daughter had better prepare for the afterlife, because they would soon find their body chopped into small pieces, floating in jars of formaldehyde.

The full moon cast a silvery light on his pale cousin as she lay in a deep charmed sleep. She was paler than the white sheets, from the loss of blood.

It occurred to Draco how vulnerable his cousin was to attack. He had Greg and Vin to provide him with protection, not that he couldn't hold his own in a fight, mind you. And if all else failed he could always go to his father. Who did Sera have? Obviously, she had her father as well, but Professor Snape couldn't be with her all the time. Her foster family was pretty useless being thousands of miles away. The white dog was defenseless against magic. The girl needed allies.

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**December 1st 1995**

Seraphina awoke feeling something cold and slimy on her skin. Still groggy from a heavy sleep, she tried to move and felt something tugging at her as she opened her eyes to the garish light of day.

"Good morning, Seraphina," said Madam Pomfrey smiling. "You're in the Hospital Wing. Nothing to be frightened about."

Seraphina blinked, she was too disoriented waking up in the unfamiliar surroundings to answer. It was too bright even with the curtained partition and it was noisy too, the sound of footsteps, murmuring, and clatter of things being moved gave her a headache.

She tried to rub at her eyes, but Madam Pomfrey stood up and held both of her hands down. "Not just yet dear, the salve hasn't dried yet," the woman explained.

Sera glanced down at her bare arms and screamed. There were thin lines cut into her skin and something gooey and white was smeared over them. She broke free of Pomfrey's hold and wiped at her left arm, continuing to scream. The ointment had partially dried so she scratched at it reopening the cuts.

"Stop it! Sera," said Madam Pomfrey trying to restrain Sera. "Take her arm," she instructed Nurse Matthews. "Call for Professor Snape," she said to another attendant.

"We're trying to help you, Sera. Please calm down, child," she said reassuringly and loudly, to be heard over the girl's ear-piercing screams.

But Sera was inconsolable and did just the opposite. She shrieked and kicked at the bed covers and struggled wildly against Pomfrey and Matthews trying to twist herself from their grasp.

"Should we restrain her?" Matthews asked.

Poppy nodded reluctantly. Another Sleeping Charm or potion might send the girl into a catatonic stupor upon waking.

Professor Snape entered the hospital wing to find his daughter screaming hoarsely and tied to the hospital bed with sheets.

"We had to, Severus," Poppy explained, her white hat askew, "she was hurting herself and fighting us."

Severus ignored her and began untying the sheets. "My daughter is not a lunatic in an asylum. She will not be treated like one."

Poppy opened her mouth to rebuke him, but stopped when she noticed that Sera had abruptly stopped screaming. The girl sat up coughing. Severus poured her a glass of water from the bedside table. The poor girl's hands trembled trying to tilt the glass up. He held it for her and she drank thirstily.

"Do you want more?" he asked.

"No," she answered hoarsely.

"Let me see your arms," he said.

Poppy watched in amazement as the girl complied stretching out her arms for his inspection. She and Nurse Matthews had cleaned and stopped the bleeding. Sera still needed to have the salve reapplied and then have her arms bandaged.

"Where is Roscoe?" Sera asked as he examined the cuts.

"He is taking his morning walk with Mr. Malfoy," he informed her.

"Is Roscoe hurt?"

"No, in that, he was more fortunate than yourself," he said. "Did you see who attacked you?"

"No, I did not see," she said, "only the darkness."

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_5 December 1995_

_Dearest Seraphina,_

_Remember it all, every word of insult, every blow struck against you, every drop of blood shed. One day you will avenge yourself against them all. I can teach you how, if you would let me. _

_You cannot rely on Snape for protection. You must learn to defend yourself against those who mean you harm. I know you have the ability. Do not be afraid to use it. _

_Oh, do not deceive yourself, Seraphina! They have declared war against you – but they left you alive. It is their mistake. You must retaliate and destroy them utterly. First, secure yourself and then launch your offensive._

_You're hampered by a narrow conception of right and wrong. I have learned that there is no such thing as good and evil, only power. Either you have it or you don't. Study history, study the law, you so admire, see how it changes, and see how power changes hands. Martyrs are raised to sainthood in death, whilst tyrants are crowned to rule for life, which would you rather be?_

_I forgive you, Seraphina for your last letter. I will force my help upon you if necessary, because you are my daughter. I made you. I'm in your blood. I'm with you wherever you go. And nothing, on earth, heaven or hell will ever change that. _

_Love, your mother,_

_Bellatrix_

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"Your mother has a flare for the dramatic, does she not?" Severus commented from his desk.

"I do not understand what you mean," Sera said from her seat at the small kitchen table, where she had just finished reading the letter.

He sighed. His sarcasms were wasted on the child.

Sera was much improved. Her wounds had been completely healed. Her attacker had meant to scar her for life but diligent application of the salve had erased all trace of the cuts from her porcelain skin.

Sera was writing her letters for the week. It irked him that she used a blue Muggle ballpoint pen rather than a quill.

"Seraphina," he said, walking over to her. "I cannot allow you to write about the events of November thirtieth."

"Why not?" she asked innocently.

_Because your zealous parents will drag me into court or at the very least send me a barrage of Howlers_, he thought. What he said was, "Because I said so."

"I find your answer insufficient," she said.

"Impertinent, child," he snapped back at her.

Sera stared down and tapped her foot against the carpet.

"I promised Will I would write him if I was bullied," she said.

"Then write him," Severus said, "but I will not send your letter."

"Yes professor."

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**December 10th 1995**

Draco accompanied Seraphina on her morning walks with Roscoe around the Hogwarts grounds. She never went anywhere unsupervised. The ground was frozen. An inch of frost blanketed the lawn. Sera didn't speak much. Draco didn't mind having to carry most of their conversations told her about the goings-on at Hogwarts; it was much the same thing with Greg and Vin, except Pansy, who always needed to be the center of attention. However, Sera didn't really have a social life of her own, so she could hear about his. She was a good listener. She remembered everything he said, sometimes to his dismay when she pointed out a contradiction and on occasion she would ask questions if he used some expression she didn't understand.

They were walking along the shoreline of the icy lake, when they heard noise above them. On the cliffs overlooking the lake were a group of students talking loudly. It sounded like they were arguing. They were too high up to make out. Two of them were dueling.

There was a shout of, _"EXPELLIARMUS!"_

"No! The cliff!" yelled a female voice.

It was too late. The spell had already hit its target hitting the boy in the abdomen causing him to fly backwards off the precipice and into the icy waters below.

"Merlin!" gasped Draco.

The boy surfaced his black robes spread out on the waters surface.

"HELP!" he screamed, flailing his arms in the water. Panicking prevented him from staying afloat and his was pulled down robes and all.

It was Longbottom. Draco was stunned to realize. He should go to the castle to get help; he was a prefect after all. Roscoe barked sharply and that's when Draco turned and noticed that Sera was no longer next to him. She was already in the water swimming towards Longbottom.

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**Angels-Giggle – **Thank for taking the time to read – all in one night, wow. And thank you so much for your review!

**SailorHecate** – I'm glad you like the way the story is going. There's so much more to come.

**STupid stories** – Bev and Rick are having difficulties at the moment. I'll get back to you on that.

**Papaya – **It's amazing that you picked up on that hint – about Danny thoughts on how Sera's one real friendship didn't end well. Tabitha and her subplot are based on the book, "A Bridge over Terabithia." I cried after I read it. It's a great name, Samantha, the witch, on the old show, "Bewitched," named her daughter Tabitha too.

**Jessica – **The attackers will be revealed later. Your review made me think about what Snape would do, so I put in that line about chopping them into pieces in Draco's thoughts, as a possibility. Did you like the cliff-hanger?

**LMTran – **Yeah, Snape has a heart. I couldn't let everyone keep hating him too much. I knew you'd hate Danny's letter, he's displacing his anger onto Sera, because of his parents' separation. And your reviews contribute so much to the story, not only do they keep me writing, but you all come up with brilliant suggestions or point out some loose end that I missed. The scene of Sera's attack will be written up, if I can stomach it, later on when the attackers are revealed. Having experienced bullying, I honestly wasn't very keen on writing many scenes of Sera being picked on, which is why I didn't draw it out as much. I'll try to post the next chapter soon.

**Author's Note **- Bella's letter is based on Niccolo Machiavelli's, book _The Prince_ and also Janet Finch's, _White Oleander_. I think Bellatrix would have studied Machiavelli and her personality matches with the character of Ingrid, from _Oleander_, another homicidal mother.


	36. Chapter 36 Fairytales, Part 3

**Chapter 36 – Fairytales, Part 3**

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**May 2nd 1990**

"Don't you think five marshmallows are enough, Will?" Rick asked the boy clad in blue pajamas decorated with rocket-ships and astronauts.

"No. I need more," Will said petulantly, taking another miniature marshmallow from the bag on the coffee table.

"Me too," Danny seconded, grabbing one as well, and plunking it down into his hot chocolate. He stirred and sunk the mini-marshmallows in the cup with his spoon and enjoyed watching them bob back up.

"That's enough of that," Bev said taking the package of treats. "One more game of Snap and then it's bedtime. And we don't want any sugar induced excitement before then."

She headed to the kitchen to put away the snack, and glanced over at the bay window where Loretta sat with Sera reading _Alice in Wonderland_. Rain poured down from the sky as though the heavens had burst.

"It's raining cats and dogs out there, isn't it?" said Bev, pausing to watch as sheets of rain cascaded against the glass.

The little girl looked out the window and was confused. Her mother was not a liar, but there were no cats and dogs falling from the sky, merely water. It would be a terrible thing for the animals to be plummeting to their deaths.

Aunt Loretta kissed the top of Sera's head. "It's just an old saying, dear. She means that it's raining quite heavily, luv," she explained with a warm smile.

Sera nodded and returned her attention to the storybook, as Aunt Loretta continued to read aloud to her, mimicking a little girl's voice, _"Well!' thought Alice to herself, after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!' (Which was very likely true.) Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end!" _

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**December 10th 1995**

"What are you doing? Come back! Sera!" shouted Draco, as he ran to the water's edge.

Sera's burgundy wool cloak and shoes were lying helter-skelter on the sands. She was already in the water, swimming vigorously to where the boy had submerged and took a deep breathe of air before diving down after him. He had fallen only a few yards of the shoreline, there was a good chance he was still alive. She searched the water and caught sight of his robes, managing to get a hold of his shoulder too. She tugged to get him up to the surface for air, he was already unconscious.

Something yanked the boy and her by association in the opposite direction. She let go, swimming to surface quickly for air and then dived farther down, to see if he was caught on something. That's when she saw it, a grindylow, had its long sharp fingers wrapped around his ankle, dragging him down to its lair.

Sera picked up a large, nearby rock with both hands from the floor of the lake and whacked against the grindylow's brittle fingers breaking its grip. It let out a howl of pain and let the boy go. Sera dropped the rock and swam upwards pushing the boy up to the surface ahead of her. The grindylow grabbed at her foot with its one uninjured hand and wrenched, it bit the calf of her leg and she kicked it in the head with the other.

She kept swimming and grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and brought him to surface. Taking deep breathes, she quickly swam backwards holding his head up in the water covering the short distance to the shore.

Draco helped her carry Neville and lay him down on the sand. The boy's skin was blue, he wasn't breathing.

"Sera, are you alright? Is he dead?" Draco asked.

She ignored him and knelt down next to the pale-blue boy, tilting his head back, she closed his nostrils with one hand and to Draco's utter horror, she covered Neville's open mouth with hers. She breathed into his mouth two times.

"Ugh! Sera! Great Almighty Merlin!" Draco shouted, "What the bloody hell are you doing?" His cousin was snogging Longbottom.

Sera interlocked her hands over the boy's chest and began to press down as hard as she could in an up-and-down rhythm.

Now she was pounding on his boy's chest.

"Have you gone mad?" Draco cried out, "His already dead, there's no need to beat him!" Draco may not have liked the boy, but he didn't think Neville deserved to have his corpse desecrated. He reached out to stop her.

"Leave her alone, Malfoy," said an all too familiar voice. "She's giving him CPR," said Potter running down the hill with Granger and Weasley close behind. "She's trying to save his life."

"What the bloody hell is CPR?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"I'm going to get help," Harry said turning around and running to the castle.

"It stands for cardiopulmonary resuscitation," Granger answered smartly. "It's a medical technique to get him breathing again."

"It looks like she's kissing him," Ron said in disgust; as Sera leaned over once again to give Neville breathe.

Finally, Neville coughed. She tilted his head to the side so that the water he choked out wouldn't go back into his throat.

"What – what happened?" Neville croaked out.

"Someone hexed your fat-arse into the lake," Draco said superiorly, "and my cousin fished you out."

Neville coughed and saw for the first time saw clearly who was knelt down next to him, "Get away from me," he said, pushing the girl. He wiped at his mouth. _Had she been kissing him?_ he thought.

Sera fell backwards into the sand.

"Prat!" Draco said to Neville, while hurrying to help her up. She was heavy and limp in his arms. "Are you alright, Sera?" He asked, propping her up against a large boulder.

"Sera," he said, touching her face lightly, "Come on. Answer me."

"She's bleeding," gasped Hermione, pointing at the scarlet blood staining the girl's white wool stocking at the calf of her right leg.

"Who's bleeding?" demanded Pomfrey coming towards them with Nurse Matthews and Potter, "Oh, Sera, not again. Out of the way, Mr. Malfoy."

Pomfrey examined the wound cutting the fabric with her wand, her eyes going wide with alarm.

"Sera, you must stay awake. Do you hear me?" she called to the girl tapping her gently on the cheek.

The girl opened her eyes blinkingly, "Yes," she said softly.

"Keep her awake, Mr. Malfoy," Pomfrey said casting a spell over her wound that sounded almost like a song, her forehead wrinkling with worry, when nothing seemed to happen. She conjured a stretcher.

"Sera," Draco said, "You're going to be alright. Just stay awake."

"Tabitha," she called.

"No, I'm Draco," he said, "your cousin, Draco, remember?"

"I am sorry, Tabitha," she rasped, as Madam Pomfrey levitated her onto the stretcher.

She was delirious, Draco realized.

"What've you got for to be sorry for? You just saved someone's life. Granted it was Longbottom and Professor Snape won't thank you for it," he said gregariously, walking alongside the stretcher as they went uphill.

"I am cold," she said.

"It's warm in the castle," he said, looking down at her, he saw she was getting paler, her black hair was wet and matted to the sides of her face. Her eyes were closing shut. "Wake-up, Sera. Wake-up," he said squeezing her hand; it was ice cold and wet.

They were met at the front doors by Professor Snape.

"She was bitten by something poisonous, Severus," Pomfrey explained as they headed up the stairs. "The wound won't heal. She needs to stay conscious for as long as possible."

"Wake-up, Sera," Draco said.

Sera's eyes flickered open again and she gasped in obvious pain.

"You are not to sleep, do you understand, Sera?" Severus said sternly.

Her blue eyes were glassy as she stared up, "I am – hurt," she said.

"We are aware of that," he said as Pomfrey levitated her onto the hospital bed.

"Mo-ther," she gasped out, "I want my mother – and father."

"They aren't here, so you'll have to make do with me," the professor said.

"Tabitha," Sera said again.

"Who is Tabitha? A relative?" Draco asked.

Her eyes shut again. "Sera, wake-up. Wake-up," Snape said, slapping her lightly on her cheeks. "Wake-up!"

Sera's arms and legs began to twitch; her body convulsed involuntarily. She was having a seizure.

Professor Snape helped hold Sera down as Pomfrey opened the girl's mouth and forced a draught into her mouth. The seizure stopped and Sera lay motionless on the hospital bed.

"Is she petrified?" Draco asked.

"No, Mr. Malfoy. I'm afraid you cousin is in a coma," Pomfrey said. "Severus, she must be taken to St. Mungo's."

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**St. Mungo's Hospital**

Healer Addison emerged from the girl's room and spoke with her father, standing outside the door. The old wizard delivered the news grimly, "Your daughter is suffering from the bite of a grindylow, Professor Snape. I know this sounds impossible, but the particular grindylow that bit her appears to have been venomous."

It was common knowledge that although grindylows were vicious sea creatures, they were not poisonous.

"I've sent off a sample to a toxicologist, Healer Tanabe and I've contacted Dr. Engels to consult, but the prognosis is not good, sir. The poison from what we can tell is a potent neurotoxin. You must prepare yourself for the worse," he said bleakly.

"Prepare," Snape repeated scornfully, "how does one go about doing that?"

"Have the rest of your family – her friends visit. I say prepare, professor, but hope for the best. There is always hope. You may see her now."

Professor Snape turned the knob and entered the small hospital room she'd been given because of her critical condition. She looked like she was sleeping. Her skin was terribly pale and had a grayish tinge to it. Her veins, blue and purple lines shone visibly. The wolf-dog looked up from the floor at the foot of her bed with sad eyes.

Severus sat by her bedside and held her hand. It was as cold as ice as though she were already – He refused to finish the thought; instead he conjured a blanket and put it over the three other blankets already covering her and renewed the warming charm.

"What were you thinking, foolish girl? Saving that worthless lump of a boy, Longbottom?"

There was only silence to answer him as snow fell lightly outside the window.

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**Papaya – **Yep, I figured the Dark Lord probably told his minions there was no good or evil too.

**TET - **I'm glad you liked Bella's letter and Draco's characterization. Thanks for the review!

Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

Is there anyone interested in being my beta-reader:) Just need someone to check for typos. It'll make updating easier and possibly save my sanity. It'd also be great to bounce ideas off and ask questions like, "Do you think Snape would really say that?"


	37. Chapter 37 Fairytales, Part 4

**Chapter 37 – Fairytales, Part 4**

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_Snow White put her head out of the window and said, "I cannot let anyone in, the seven dwarfs have forbidden me." _

_"It is all the same to me," answered the woman, "I shall soon get rid of my apples. There, I will give you one." _

_"No," said Snow White, "I dare not take anything." _

_"Are you afraid of poison?" said the old woman, "look, I will cut the apple in two pieces, you eat the red cheek, and I will eat the white." _

_The apple was so cunningly made that only the red cheek was poisoned. Snow White longed for the fine apple, and when she saw that the woman ate part of it she could resist no longer, and stretched out her hand and took the poisonous half. But hardly had she a bit of it in her mouth than she fell down dead. _

_Then the queen looked at her with a dreadful look, and laughed aloud and said, "White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony-wood, this time the dwarfs cannot wake you up again." _

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**May 2nd 1990**

Keating Estate, Virginia

"What's wrong, Rick?" Bev asked, concerned, as her husband came through the door. The color had drained from his face. His eyes searched wildly for something and fell on their daughter, who was playing with chess with Will. Rick breathed a sigh of relief. "Rick, what's wrong?" she asked again.

"I – I need to talk to you – in the kitchen," he said taking off his wet coat and hanging it up by the door.

"What's going on?" Bev asked, frowning and concerned. She followed him into the kitchen and tore off a sheet of paper towel, wiping at Rick's wet face. "Where are the groceries?"

"Bev," he said, breathing deep, "At the store – the sheriff, Dewey, you remember?"

She nodded recalling vaguely meeting the town's brawny sheriff at the Mayfair two nights ago.

"He told me – he told me, Tabitha – Tabitha is dead, Beverly. She drowned in the creek."

"What? No!" Bev gasped, placing a hand over her open mouth. "No," she said shaking her head. "It can't be."

"Dewey said Tabitha snuck out of her house last night to go to the clubhouse. The rope – the rope the girls use to swing across the gully, snapped. They think she must have hit her head. The rains flooded the creek and she drowned."

"Oh my god." Bev murmured. "Oh my god," she said, picturing her own daughter drowned. She covered her face with her hands. "Oh my god." she said again, "Natalie… Kevin." She couldn't think what they were going through – to lose their only child.

Rick pulled her into his arms. They were anchors for each other. When it seemed like the whole world was crashing down around them, they just held onto each other for dear life.

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**December 11th 1995**

The merpeople captured what they believed to be the guilty grindylow. Although the warriors that the Merchieftainess Murcus commanded had been skeptical of Dumbledore's claim that the grindylow was venomous, they had taken precautions that proved beneficial to them. They had gone out to capture the beast dawned in full armor but the ferocious grindylow had had to be killed before it could claim another victim. They believed the culprit grindylow was a foreigner to their waters. Native grindylows had pale green skin. The one they caught had a reddish tinge to its coloring. It had probably latched itself onto the bottom of the Durmstrang boat. It was used to colder waters, so it did not retreat to the deeper parts of the lake like other grindylows during the winter months. It was a perplexing mystery. Even grindylows from the north were not naturally venomous.

The corpse of the "red grindylow" was brought to St. Mungo's. Healer Addison performed the autopsy extracting tissue samples for Healer Tanabe, the toxicologist. Tanabe normally enjoyed a good challenge but not under these circumstances. A thirteen-year-old girl's life hung in the balance. The odds were against her with a preexisting neurological condition, a weak immune system, and only recently recovering from an earlier attack.

"Poor little girl," he said to himself, as he examined a small jagged tooth taken from the red grindylow.

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**December 11th 1995**

Neville Longbottom summoned all his Gryffindor courage and knocked on the office door of Professor Snape.

"Who the devil is it?"

"Longbottom, sir," he mumbled.

"Who?" rapid steps approached the door and it swung open, revealing the towering figure of Professor Snape.

"Neville Longbottom, sir," he said more clearly.

"What do you want, Mr. Longbottom?" said Snape, his black eyes glinting malevolently in the torchlight.

"I – picked these up. Her things," Neville said meekly, holding up a box containing Sera's shoes, cloak and her locket laid carefully on top. He had cleaned and charmed the dirt and sand from them.

Professor Snape took the box from him with an implacable expression. "Thank you, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville bit his bottom lip unsure of how to get the words out.

"Is there something else Mr. Longbottom?" Snape asked impatiently.

To the professor's surprise, Longbottom pulled out an academic journal, _Herbology Today_ from his school robes. "There's an article here about red tide. It's what they call red algal blooms. They contain dinoflagellates that produce toxins. I thought it might help," he said shrugging and handing it to Professor Snape.

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom. For your – assistance," said Snape.

"You're welcome, sir. Er – I wanted to know how she is. Is she going to be alright?"

"That remains to be seen, Mr. Longbottom," Snape answered shutting the door.

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**December 12th 1995**

Rick and Beverly had been separated for almost a month. Rick was living out of a suitcase in a hotel and had started to look for suitable apartments in the area to rent. He buried himself in work arguing for the equal treatment of goblins in financial transactions with mages. Bev likewise buried herself in work at the museum. They were trying to live one without the other. Something neither of them had done for twenty years.

Rick couldn't trust Bev if she could go behind his back and make what he felt were horrendously unethical decisions. How could he live with someone he didn't trust? He loved her still, but it didn't seem enough. She had given Anselm von Rothschild a foothold into their family. And there was no doubt in Rick's mind that the crafty old man would take full advantage of it for his own sick twisted purposes. There was no way he would allow Rothschild near any one of his children.

Danny, he knew, wasn't coping well. Rick saw him on the weekends and took him to Quidditch games or the movies, but Danny wanted his parents to get back together. Rick and Bev had tried to explain to Danny and Will that their relationship was something they had to work out with each other. Will seemed to understand more, but he was away at school and two years older than Danny, who still needed to finish high school. Their youngest son had become moody and defiant, staying out late, getting into fights at school and telling his teachers off. The entire Keating family came together for the first time since a rocky Thanksgiving dinner and a funeral at the bedside of the sick little girl.

Professor Snape entered the Sera's hospital room to find it crowded with Keatings.

"Hello, professor." The eldest boy greeted him, which he acknowledged with a nod.

"Professor Snape." Mr. and Mrs. Keating said in turn.

The youngest boy glared at him disdainfully.

"Boys, would you take Roscoe for a walk?" Rick asked in a manner that indicated it was not a question.

Will called the dog to him, but Danny leaned against the window.

"It only takes one person to walk a dog," he muttered.

"Daniel, please," Bev said.

"Fine, whatever," Danny said throwing up his hands and following behind Will and Roscoe.

"How could you wait so long to tell us?" Rick demanded, once the door was closed. He rose from his seat to confront Snape.

"It is my prerogative as Sera's natural father to decide if and when to contact her foster family," Snape replied coldly.

"_Your prerogative_?" Bev repeated, "She needed us and you kept us from her."

"And what could you have done?" Snape sneered. "Do you possess some medical expertise I am not aware of?"

"Don't talk to my wife like that," Rick said, "How could you let this happen to Sera?" he accused. "You had her for less than two months. Why didn't you watch her? Why didn't you protect her?"

"Then tell me. How was I to know she'd jump into the bloody Black Lake in the middle of winter? Was I supposed to divine it from a cup of tea leaves? I didn't even know the girl could swim." Snape sneered.

"That doesn't matter," said Rick, his voice rising in intensity, "You called Sera 'your responsibility.' You told us you'd take care of her. Where the hell were you, when she needed you? You don't deserve to be her father. You don't know what the word means."

Snape's black eyes bored into the man standing before him and his hand itched for his wand. He opened the door behind him, "I shall return in one hour. I expect all of you to be elsewhere."

"Wait." Bev pleaded, letting go of Sera's hand and getting up. "This is wrong. It's not going to help our daughter. We need to work together. Pool our resources. Rick and I aren't Healers, but we know a lot of them. We know you've asked Elaine for help. We're having her computer and lab equipment transported to St. Mungo's so she can access any Muggle databases that might be helpful. Rick and I have money and contacts. Everything we have is at your disposal."

"What are your conditions?" Snape asked.

Bev rolled her eyes. "I'm not negotiating with you. This is isn't a treaty. We all want the same thing. We all want to save Sera."

"We want to be kept informed about Sera's condition," Rick interjected. "We want to be a party to any conferences you have with Healers Tanabe, Addison or Elaine. And we want to take shifts staying with Sera, so she won't be left alone. Is it a deal?"

"Done. I shall return in an hour." Snape said shutting the door.

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**December 12th 2005**

Professor Snape read the journal article Longbottom had suggested as he waited in the cafeteria of the hospital for the Keatings to vacate Sera's room. He wasn't in the mood to read imbecilic third year Potions essays on the uses of Murtlap tentacles. A floating teapot refilled his cup with Earl Grey as he turned a page.

Red tide was a toxic algal bloom consisting of an insidious specious of dinoflagellates, called _Karenia brevis_, caused by coastal water pollution and global warming. _Muggles destroying the natural world_, Snape thought irritably. There had been a rise in the occurrence of red tides, some of which produced large quantities of brevetoxins.

What connection did Longbottom see between poisonous red seaweed and the grindylow that had attacked Sera? Grindylows were not vegetarians. They were carnivorous eating small marine animals: various kinds of small fish, the occasional jellyfish, and its particular favorites were clams and oysters. However, Snape, brilliant Potions Master, recalled that these shellfish belonged in a class of aquatic animals known as filter feeders, so named because they fed by filtering particulate organic material from water. What if the grindylow that had attacked Sera ate shellfish that had bioaccumulated the toxins from the red tide? Professor Snape contacted Healers Addison and Tanabe, and Dr. Engels.

By that time Healer Addison had autopsied the "red grindylow," supplying tissue samples for Healer Tanabe to set to work isolating the poison and examining its chemical composition and molecular structure. Dr. Engels set up her makeshift lab to help identify the neurotoxin using Professor Snape's working theory as a starting point. By the day's end, they finally had an answer for the family.

"The red grindylow," Tanabe explained to them, "was not naturally venomous. Through some means, either by swimming in waters affected by red tide or feeding on affected marine life, he accumulated the poisons in the fatty tissues of his body, mainly in the liver and pancreas. It did not kill him, because the biological half-life of the toxin reacts differently in the grindylow than in a human being."

"The toxin we've identified is tetrodoxin," said Dr. Engels solemnly.

Professor Snape blanched.

"I'm sorry, Beverly, Rick, Professor Snape, but there is no known antidote," said Engels.

"What do you mean there's no antidote?" Rick asked.

"Tetrodoxin usually kills within minutes, Mr. Keating," explained Tanabe. "It's lethal at less than half a milligram. There are cases where people have lived for three to four days afterwards in a state of paralysis until their respiratory or circulatory systems fail and they die of asphyxiation. I'm sorry, Rick. Healer Tanabe and I will try to work on an antivenom but it's very unlikely. We do not wish to give you false hope."

"We'll try to make her as comfortable as possible," said Healer Addison trying to reassure them.

"What are you saying?" Bev asked. Her voice had a hysterical edge to it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Keating, Professor Snape, your daughter is dying," Addison said.

"There's a chance," Engels said, "Sera may be at least partially conscious; the toxin may not have passed the blood-brain barrier. That means she might still be able to hear and understand you at times."

"My mother," Rick said, "when she was with Sera, she said her hand moved. If she can move, even in a coma, doesn't mean that she'll come out of it."

"Those are involuntary muscle spasms," Engels said fidgeting with her pen, "her nerves may still be sending messages to her brain. It's – it's an indication that she's in pain, Rick. Healer Addison has prescribed her Morphus drops every three hours."

Rick covered his face with his hands.

"You're saying," Bev said the tears caught in her throat, "that my daughter's dying and she's in pain."

"I'm sorry, Beverly," Elaine said.

"You're sorry," Bev repeated bitterly. "He's the one that should be sorry," taking out her wand and pointing it at Professor Snape. "You killed her! You took her from us and you killed her! You killed my baby!"

Rick took her wordlessly in his arms and they both wept.

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**All Hail LordAnubis485 the beta-reader.**

**TET – **Nothing like a good coma to add drama to a situation.

**dancer8428 – **I was on the track team too, so I forgive your lack of reviews. Unfortunately, my foray into the world of athletics only lasted for two days. Every bone in my body hurt after day 2 and I took so long to run laps that the coach stopped timing me. Coach looked so sad. I had to end our shared misery. But kudos to you for sticking with it. Bella and the Malfoys shall be in the next chapter.

**ShyOrangette – **Same day update but another cliff-hanger.


	38. Chapter 38 Fairytales, Part 5

**Chapter 38 Fairytales, Part 5 (Revised as of July 2012)  
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_The dwarfs, when they came home in the evening, found Snow White lying upon the ground, she breathed no longer and was dead. They lifted her up, looked to see whether they could find anything poisonous, unlaced her, combed her hair, washed her with water and wine, but it was all of no use, the poor child was dead, and remained dead. They laid her upon a bier, and all seven of them sat round it and wept for her, and wept three days long. Then they were going to bury her, but she still looked as if she were living, and still had her pretty red cheeks. _

_They said, "We could not bury her in the dark ground," and they had a transparent coffin of glass made, so that she could be seen from all sides, and they laid her in it, and wrote her name upon it in golden letters, and that she was a king's daughter. Then they put the coffin out upon the mountain, and one of them always stayed by it and watched it. And birds came too, and wept for Snow White, first an owl, then a raven, and last a dove. _

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**December 13th 1995**

**St. Lucia Day**

"Don't be scared, baby," said Bev, cupping Sera's hand in hers. "Everyone's here, me your dad, your brothers and grandmother Evie. You're not alone, honey. We love you so much." She began to sob again and kissed her daughter's cold hand. "Please, please, don't die."

"I'm sorry, princess," Rick said, tracing the line of his daughter's face with his fingertips. "Daddy's very sorry."

He had failed as father. He hadn't been there to protect her, to save her. He should never have allowed her to leave, never brought her to Hogwarts, never let her out of his sight. He should have continued the court fight. It would have bought them time. How many more days would they have had? How many more bedtime stories could he have read to her? Now, she might never know that Odysseus made it home to Ithaca – to his family, in the end.

'Pray to the Goddess, Rick,' his mother had entreated him. 'We may be powerless but She never is.'

And he had. He had gone down on bended knee in the hospital chapel with his family and with his head bowed and hands clasped, he had pleaded at the shrine of the Great Lady to take pity on his little girl.

'Don't make me bury another child,' he had begged the marble statue, a representation of the Goddess as Demeter, a mother who had lost her daughter Persephone to the God of the Underworld for a time.

Grief-stricken, the deity had wandered the earth in search of her only child. Her despair and mourning were so great that the earth became barren and desolate. Vegetation died, animals starved and it seemed humankind would perish; such was the depth of the Goddess's sorrow. Surely, she would understand their anguish.

'Grant to us your mercy, Goddess of the earth, Mother of all humanity,' his mother had implored. 'We your loyal supplicants ask for intercession on behalf of Seraphina Bianca, a child anointed in the name of the Lord and Lady. In perfect love and trust we have tried to raise her and dedicated her to the ancient mysteries. Take pity on us for we are not ready to be parted from her.'

Rick was grateful to have his mother present to lead them in prayer. She had demonstrated all the strength of her seventy-seven years of age in these dark days. She had practice at it, holding the family together after the sudden death of Rick's father and managing the family's financial assets with acumen goblins could envy.

But looking at Sera now, Rick wondered if their prayers had fallen on deaf ears. Her skin was nearly translucent revealing the blue and purplish veins beneath. Her black hair had thinned and emphasized the pallor of her complexion. Sera's intakes of breathe were imperceptible, but once in a while a finger would lift, a leg would jerk, her head would turn, and indicate to them that she was still alive, because she could still feel the pain of the poison coursing through her body.

"You're Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted and Cousin Tonks sent you flowers," his wife said placing the blue irises and yellow lilies in a pale green vase by their daughter's bedside.

The bright cheerful floral arrangement reflected the Tonks family, who had stopped by for a brief visit not wanting to intrude. It was unfortunate Sera had never met them.

"Your Aunt and Uncle Malfoy and Cousin Draco are here too. They just want to stop by to wish you well, sweetheart," Bev continued to say. Professor Snape had given his permission for them to visit. "Don't worry, baby. Your dad and I will be right beside you," she added in consolation.

The Malfoys had a chilling disposition compared to the sunny outlook of the Tonks. Though Andromeda and Narcissa shared the same pointed face, fair flawless skin, and pale-blue eyes, their personalities were polar opposites. Andy with her violent shade of red hair had been warm and optimistic, while Narcissa appeared to suck the life out of the room. Their choice in husbands, one an arrogant aristocratic pureblood, the other, a down-to-earth Muggleborn, emphasized the difference between the two families of each sister.

Danny took Roscoe for a much needed walk, while the Malfoys visited Sera. Grandma Evie and Will went to get some food for everyone at a local bakery. The Malfoy's declined their offer to bring something back for them especially after realizing that they were going to a Muggle establishment. They entered Sera's small hospital room in all their robed finery, decked out in heavy wool cloaks trimmed with black fur.

"These are for Sera," Draco said formally, handing a dozen long-stemmed white roses to Mrs. Keating.

"Thank you, Draco," Mrs. Keating said taking the flowers from him with a welcoming smile. She rose from her chair and conjured a clear vase and placed the flowers in it, adding water from the table-side pitcher. "These are lovely." White roses for innocence and purity, love and sympathy, she recalled mentally.

"_Imperio_," Narcissa said pointing a wand at Mrs. Keating's back.

Simultaneously, Lucius had cast the same curse on Mr. Keating before the man could retaliate.

"You will both go with Lucius and wait with him outside the room," Narcissa ordered them. They both stood still, unmoving, confused expression on their faces. "_Imperio!_" she fairly shouted at the pair of them, setting her dominating will against theirs.

"You're fortunate I put a silencing charm on the room, _sister_," Draco castigated her once the Keatings were subdued. "Need I remind you that not all of us want to make friends with Dementors."

"Out of your seats, Mr. and Mrs. Keating," Lucius drawled. "You two could use with an airing out I daresay," he said, eyeing their disheveled appearances disdainfully. The couple looked like they had slept in those disgusting Muggle outfits they wore. "Come Cissa."

"Fifteen minutes, Bellatrix," the pseudo-Draco hissed at the pale-blond woman.

"Thank you, sister," the faux-Narcissa said as the boy closed the door.

The door closed and Bellatrix in the form of sister took a step towards the bed. Her expression softened as she quickly removed her sister's black leather and shed the heavy fur coat.

She sat by the girl's bedside and touched her cheek and brushed the dark hair from her forehead.

"My sweet girl," she said softly, "It's your mother, Bellatrix. Your _real _mother; not that other woman." How she hated Mrs. Keating. "I may not look it now, but I assure that it was _I, _who gave birth to you … in this very hospital no less.

"They say that you're dying, luv, but I know that's a lie. You can't die. You're too strong. You're a Black. They can call you Keating and Snape till they're blue in the face. And Black's don't die of silly grindylow bites. Snape will find something to help you. It's the least the slimy git can do after what he's done… to me – to the both of us. He wasn't meant to be your father, darling. Men are all bastards, Sera. Never trust them," her voice going cold.

"Enough of that… we shall discuss all of it some other time. I came to make sure you were being taken care of. They could have given you are better room than this," she said surveying the room with a critical eye at the small cramped hospital room with a single bay window.

The glint of a silver photo frame caught her eye. It was a photo album Bellatrix realized as she picked it up from the wooden bedside table. She thumbed through the pages and drank in its images. Sera as an infant in a cradle. Her christening – held in the arms of an elderly couple. Sera's second birthday – sitting in the lap of Mrs. Keating in front of a pink cake with two white candles. Sera, a toddler now, on a swing pushed by Mr. Keating. Sera opening Christmas presents with the Keating boys.

"I've missed you growing up," Bella said bitterly. "I've never even held you, not even when you were a baby."

She would now, Bella decided shutting the album. She peeled back the layers of tartan blankets covering up her daughter and lifted the girl into her lap. She was so light and deathly cold in her arms. Bella pressed the girl against her gently, resting the child's head against her shoulder and rocked her back and forth like an infant. She kissed Sera's forehead and stroked her cheek. It felt wet against her fingertips. Bella realized that she was crying and wetting the girl's face with her warm salt tears.

"Mother's sorry, darling," she said wiping the moisture from Sera's face. "She's being silly. "You're just sleeping… resting… waiting for the right moment. I did the same thing for thirteen years. I waited and I waited. I thought it was for him. Now I know it was you I was waiting for. You'll wake up. I didn't wait thirteen years in hell for nothing… I didn't wait all that time just to watch you –"

There was a rap at the door signaling her that her time was up. Bellatrix returned Sera to her bed and covered her up with the blankets again.

"One day soon, luv, I'll come for you and we'll be together again. I promise. Then no one is ever going to take you away from me ever again," she promised and sealed it with a kiss on the girl's forehead.

Mr. and Mrs. Keating were led back into the room. Their memories were adjusted not a moment too soon before Will and his grandmother arrived back with caffeine beverages and pastries. The Malfoys said their good-byes and left quickly.

"Did they behave themselves?" Evelyn asked with pursed lips handing Bev a cup of coffee.

"Yes," Bev said almost trance-like. "They were very polite and well –"

" – mannered." Rick said finishing her sentence.

* * *

The Dark Lord had made it abundantly clear to Severus that he would be extremely put out if Sera should die. As punishment for Snape's paternal negligence, he had given Bellatrix leave to inflict the cruciatus curse on him, but the vicious woman had surprisingly declined.

'You're a Potions Master aren't you? Poisons are supposed to be your area of expertise, Snape,' she had sneered. 'What use are you to us if you can't save a mere child bitten by a grindylow? Go back to your dungeons, Snape and find a cure. Save her Snape. Save her or you'll be begging for death by the time I'm done with you. I'll have you castrated, maimed, skinned alive and sent back to Hogwarts so all of those dunderheaded children can point at you and scream, 'Merlin, what is that thing,' she said mimicking a mimicked a child's horrified voice.

'It's what you hate more than anything – to be humiliated, to be pitied, but on second thought maybe I'll only blind you instead,' Bella continued coldly, 'And cut out your tongue to feed to you. Snape without his sharp-witted tongue, imagine the possibilities,' then she had laughed, a high-pitched cackle that made even the other Death Eaters shudder.

"Fuck," cursed Engels, interrupting Snape's reverie.

She removed her gloves and goggles, tucking in wisps of brown fine hair that had escaped the ponytail elastic.

"Time of death 3:05 GMT. Total duration of life after injection of poison and anti-venom thirteen hours and forty-seven minutes twenty seconds," she said aloud, recording the results into her lab book and sat down dejectedly on the high lab stool. The mouse had died an hour sooner than the last one they had tested their trial cure on.

Tanabe levitated the mouse carefully from Engel's workspace to his table and began the autopsy.

The antivenin they had been working on for the last twenty-two hours came from _Crotaphytus collaris, _the collared lizard. It was an ophiophagic ("snake eating") animal, the irony was not lost on Professor Snape. It had innate antihemorrhagic and antineurotoxic antibodies.

Snape had drained the animal of its blood and prevented it from coagulating with a preservative solution. Tanabe examined the blood's chemical composition, extracted the antibodies and added Engels's mixture of proteins to create a viable antivenin, which they then tested on comatose mice that they had been poisoned with tetrodoxin. The poisoned mice had a life span of approximately ten hours. At most they were able to prolong the rodent's life for four measly hours before the tetrodoxin overwhelmed the body's defenses.

"The antineurotoxic factor of the compound partially neutralized the toxicity of the anhydrotoxin but the tetrodonic acid was not inhibited," Tanabe assessed.

"It's still able to block the ion channels of the cell membrane," Snape concluded sourly.

"We should confirm it with the electromicroscope," a cautious Tanabe replied.

Engels pinched the bridge of her nose, "There's not enough – Healer Addison," she said as the older wizard entered the room.

"Hello Elaine," he greeted her with a wane smile. "Takashi," he said with a nod to the toxicologist. "Professor Snape, I need a word with you."

They two men stepped outside into the empty corridor. The early morning daylight poured in through the window panes casting shadows.

"Professor Snape, I've just come from examining Seraphina," Healer Addison began. His light brown eyes were sorrowful. "Her right lung has collapsed. I'm sorry – she hasn't very long."

"Then uncollapse her lung," Snape ordered tersely.

"I can't do that without invasive measures, Professor Snape. She wouldn't survive the procedure. There aren't any other options," Addison explained patiently. "All we can do is to make her as comfortable as possible."

"How much time does she have?" Snape asked.

"A few hours, but not more than a day's time, I would estimate," the Healer answered soberly. "Professor Snape, I may be overstepping my bounds, but as one father to another, you should spend this time with your daughter instead of wasting it on a futile effort."

* * *

"Professor Snape," the youngest Keating boy said. The tall dour man was just a few steps ahead of him on the staircase.

"Daniel," he said not stopping to turn around.

"Wait a minute, professor. I – I've been meaning to ask you something," Danny said fumbling for the right words, as he raced up the steps quickly with Roscoe in tow, "I sent a letter to Sera a few weeks ago that I shouldn't have sent, but I did. Anyway, I know you read all her stuff and I was wondering if you gave it to her because she never wrote back, so I was hoping that she hadn't read it – that you hadn't given it to her."

"Is this your idea of remorse, Daniel?" the Professor asked caustically. He stopped to meet the boy face-to-face.

"I was angry when I wrote it," Danny said twiddling with Roscoe's leash. "I didn't mean any of it."

"Oh, so you didn't mean to accuse Sera of ruining your parents' marriage. You didn't mean to express your wish that she had never been adopted by your family. You didn't mean to say that you hoped she'd never return," Snape listed the boy's accusations.

"No, I didn't," Danny said firmly, his face flushing with shame and indignation.

"Did you think your letter would pass my inspection simply because your name was on the envelope?"

"I hadn't thought about it, till after I sent it out. Afterwards, I hoped you had thrown it out. Look, I need to know if Sera read the letter or not."

"How do you think she reacted, Daniel," the professor said resuming his walk up the stairs, "what did you think Sera's reaction would be. Would she write you an equally vindictive letter in response?"

"No, she's not like that," Daniel said following a step behind.

"How well you know your sister," he drawled. "Do you think she wrote to your parents about what you had done?"

"No, they would have said something."

"Do you think your letter made her cry?"

"Sera doesn't cry," Danny said fuming.

"How very true," Snape said, "I wonder how many times Sera has kept her silence growing up – what sorts of things you and your brother have gotten away with over the years when your parents weren't looking."

"Nothing," Danny replied incensed. "We didn't do anything to her. We protected her from the other kids when they'd tease her or take her stuff."

Snape snickered in disbelief.

"What a perfect victim she must have made for your pranks and jokes. A helpless little target to vent your hostilities on."

"You didn't give it to her did you?"

"Not a total dullard are you? No, Daniel, I did not. Your letter would have devastated her and I do not like cleaning up other people's messes. No, Seraphina is still under the blissful delusion that you are her loving caring older brother," Snape said continuing up the next flight of stairs leading to the third floor. "As much as I would like to dispel her of the notion, she is not emotionally mature enough to understand that some people feel quite differently about you when they discover that you are '_not really related_,' I believe that is how you worded it. "

"I am still her brother," Danny said defensively. "I didn't mean what I wrote."

"You meant precisely what you wrote," Snape retorted smoothly, "you're nothing but a spoiled adolescent boy vying for his parents' attention. Everything's worked to your advantage hasn't it? You're parents have reunited and if Sera dies, you'll have them virtually all to yourself."

Snape pushed open the swinging door leading to the third floor reserved for those with Creature-Induced Injuries.

"You're heinous," Danny said following Snape.

"Name calling," Snape remarked. "What sorts of things have you called Sera over the years? Don't answer. I tire of your guilty conscience. I'd like to spend some time with my daughter, now, alone."

* * *

The Keatings vacated the room begrudgingly. Severus sat down in the chair formerly occupied by Roderick Keating, the man Seraphina had grown-up calling father. She had never once called him father only 'professor' or 'sir' as though she were another one of his students.

Her bedside table was crowded with floral bouquets, get-well cards, and stuffed animals mostly of the bear variety. They were sent from her old tutors, neighbors and relations of the Keatings.

He felt chagrined that he hadn't brought anything for her. He'd been too busy working on a damned cure for her after all. Well, Sera wouldn't know in her present state, unless she really was conscious, as Engels supposed she might, but then again the woman had been educated by Muggles.

"Seraphina, it's Professor Snape," he said taking hold of her cold pale hand. "I'm sorry to have failed you. The antivenin isn't as viable as I had hoped. You must persevere on your own.

"Here is your locket back," he said taking the silver necklace from his pocket. Severus had repaired the broken clasp. He picked up Sera's head slightly to wound the chain around her neck. "Longbottom, that fat lump of a boy you rescued from the Black Lake, brought it back. He is most unworthy of your sacrifice.

"I suppose it's Fate's wicked sense of humor – divine justice. Your mother, Bellatrix cursed Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity. They're two floors above you puttering about. It makes strange sort, you should save their blockheaded son at the cost of your own life to balance the equation. 'A tooth for a tooth. And an eye for an eye.' 'For I, the Lord, thy God am a jealous god visiting the iniquity and transgression of the fathers upon the children unto the third and four generation.' I don't know if you're familiar with the Muggle Bible. You were brought up in the old ways. My father, your grandfather, you see, made sure I was well versed in another religion."

He gazed with dark eyes at the girl. A doll, he had thought the first time he'd seen her picture, a piquant face with large eyes and delicate features. Severus brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen on her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"I can hardly believe sometimes that you are flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood. You do have my mother's eyes. I never told you that. Your grandmother wasn't a beauty like your mother, but then again my mother was also not a psychopath."

There was a small twitch of Sera's right foot at the end of the bed and then stillness once more. He understood what it meant. The poison was causing peripheral nerves to fire as it overcame the rest of her body's defenses. It delivered a shock-like pain causing her limbs to jerk and convulse.

This agony he felt was worse than the cruciatus curse. Having to sit here and watch as she suffered, broken and dying because of the choices he had made. How much better her life had been before she'd known that he was her true father.

"You suffer because of me," he said leaning over his daughter so that he was speaking directly into her ear. "You should hate me. Perhaps you've never learned properly that you ought to hate those who hurt and abuse you. Remember how I took you from your loving family. Remember my callous treatment of you. Take with you the knowledge that I failed to cure you. Hate me for not protecting you as I should have. Hate me, Sera, for I am your murderer. Leave part of your spirit to haunt and torment me all the days of my life. Let me have no peace, if you should die. But stay, Sera. Stay with me."

* * *

_**Nothing begins, and nothing ends,  
That is not paid with moan,  
For we are born in other's pain,  
And perish in our own.**_

– Francis Thompson (1859–1907), British poet

In Seraphina's final hour, she was surrounded by her family. Bev and Rick each held a hand at opposite sides of her deathbed unwilling to let go. The rest looked on from their posts. Will had claimed the window seat with Roscoe sprawled across his lap. Danny sat at the foot of the bed with Evelyn flipping through a family photo album. The professor stood in the corner watching.

Will stroked the top of Roscoe's head absentmindedly. He noticed how the sun's diffused light shined and reflected off the water in the vases. The flowers, the carnations, irises, lilies, roses, and baby's breath were still fresh and in full bloom, not so much as a petal had fallen.

Twilight had come.

Will recalled the words of Healer Addison, 'A few hours – not more than a day's time.'

For Merlin's sake, Sera was only thirteen – too young to put in the ground. But Sara Phoebe had never even breathed air outside their mother's womb. She had not even had the few hours that remained for Sera. Sara Phoebe had died before she'd been born and laid to rest the next day. Will's parents had taken him and Danny to visit their sister's grave. They had wiped off the snow that covered her tombstone and laid white lilies against the wet gray stone. His mother had sobbed and knelt down on the frost covered ground entreating the goddess not to take another one of her daughters. If the gods existed, Will thought, then they were either deaf or cruel. And he would rather be damned than pray to gods that killed little girls.

His mother's gasp jolted Will out of his reverie and into the present.

Sera's arms and legged jerked spasmodically. Her back arched against the bed as she convulsed.

"Oh Good Goddess," his mother cried out, fresh tears spilling from her hazel eyes.

Addison and Engels rushed into the room. A stout, round-faced nurse pushed them out of the room. Will had to pry his father from his sister's bedside.

"Dad we have to let the Healers work," he pleaded.

"You too, professor," the nurse said sternly even though the man was two heads taller than her.

Outside in the hallway, his mother cried into his father shoulder. "Not like this," she said sobbing and shaking her head.

His father cradled his mother against him. His handsome face contorted in an expression of anguish that was almost too painful for Will to witness.

Danny held their grandmother's hand and gave her a tissue from his pocket. Opposite them, the professor stood with arms crossed, his face inhumanly devoid of feeling.

They heard the charm _Enervate_ being cast over and over again followed by a thumping noise, that could only be Sera's body rising and falling on the bed as they tried to shock her back to life with magic. The thudding noise was sickening to Will. Then there was silence, it only worsened the effect.

Addison and Engels emerged from the room downcast, tired and somber.

"A grand mal seizure," Addison pronounced solemnly, "I'm sorry. She's gone."

"I'm sorry," Engels echoed, her voice empty and hollow.

The nurse came out, "You can see her, now," she said calming, so different from the bossy tone she had used a few minutes ago.

_What the bloody hell is there to see, _Snape thought as he trudged into the room behind the Keatings.

Sera lay in the center of the bed covered up to her throat with a clean white sheet. He guessed the domineering nurse, who reminded him of Madam Pomfrey, had conjured it.

Mr. and Mrs. Keating returned to Sera's bedside. Mrs. Keating picked up the girl's limp hand and held it against her tear stained cheek.

"I love you, Sera. You'll always be my little girl," she said and kissed the girl's forehead.

"I love you, princess. I'm sorry," Rick blubbered, the man was actually crying. He recomposed himself enough to kiss Sera on the forehead as his wife had done before him. "I'll always love you, Sera."

Mrs. Keating stepped away so that her mother-in-law, the old woman could say her farewells in the same sad manner. It was like pouring salt over a wound for Severus having to watch them, this family that had spent over a decade with his daughter, pawing at her corpse. He resisted the urge to tell them all to go to Hades and stop touching his little girl, marring her deathly perfection.

The Keating boys kept a respectful distance standing at the foot of the bed.

"At least she's not in anymore pain," Evelyn said to her son and daughter-in-law. "She's at peace."

"Oh my god," Daniel said his hazel eyes wide with alarm. "She's alive!"

_The boy had gone mad, _Severus thought. His guilty conscience had eaten away at his sanity.

"I saw her foot move underneath the covers," Daniel continued to rant. "She's alive!"

"No, Danny," Will said, before Severus could throttle the boy. "She's dead, Danny. We have to accept that."

"No, I'm not crazy. The covers moved," the boy insisted, he wrenched at the white linen and pulled it aside revealing Sera's body clad in a plain white cotton nightgown.

"Danny," the boy's grieved parents entreated him.

"It's rigor mortis," Severus explained angrily. "A body stiffens after death, you imbecile." He moved forward to cover his daughter once more, but then he saw it too, the left foot twitched.

What if the boy was right?

He dropped the cloth and pushed passed Mr. Keating. He placed two fingers on Sera's neck feeling for a pulse.

"Forgive me," he murmured, before opening Sera's mouth and leaning his ear over it to see if she was drawing breath.

"What the hell are you doing!" shouted an enraged Mr. Keating.

Severus felt a tingle in his inner ear. Was that an intake of breath?

"Stop, Rick," Mrs. Keating said before Mr. Keating hexed him. "He's trying to see if she's still alive."

_Finally, the voice of reason_, Severus thought wryly.

And then a hiccup.

"She's alive!" the Keatings shouted to one another.

Another hiccup. Severus raised her head gently, "Seraphina," he called to her.

The girl coughed, her eyes still shut tight, and turned her head towards him and vomited.

**TO BE CONTINUED IN A NEW FANFICTION ENTITLED, "SHARPER THAN A SERPENT'S TOOTH"  
**

* * *

Author's Note: This is not cheating. Okay, yes, well maybe it is cheating, just a tiny bit, but thanks to a reader, the fire to write has been reignited. See how powerful it is to be a reviewer? Think about it. Authors are not paid so the only fuel to these stories is knowing that somewhere somehow someone with the capability to read can also write an opinion. Back to the not-cheating part... I've decided to continue this fanfiction in a new one, "Sharper than a serpent's tooth." Same alternate universe but under a new title. Just needed a kick in the pants or dress by bloodyrosesthorn (a reader... just like you) who sent me a message. The power of reviews and messages... see don't underestimate yourself... you can bloody well force or beg an author to write and they might out of sheer guilt and because there is a story to finish!


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